


With Friends Like These

by ElektricAngel



Series: The Divine Comedy [2]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, M/M, Multi, Soul Bond, Volume 6 (RWBY), Volume 7 (RWBY), but also mess-it-up-even-more, emphasis on the 'divergence' toward the end, headcanons to the left of them, headcanons to the right of them, in a fun way!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 41,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26541724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElektricAngel/pseuds/ElektricAngel
Summary: On all of Remnant, Atlas—the pinnacle of law and order, and the kingdom he committed an open act of war against—is the place Roman least wants to go. So of course, it's where Ozpin decides they have to go.
Relationships: Cloqwork Orange, Neopolitan & Roman Torchwick, Qrow Branwen/Ozpin/Roman Torchwick
Series: The Divine Comedy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748155
Comments: 284
Kudos: 346





	1. Train Wreck

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is #2 in a series! It will make zero sense if you haven't first read "My Own Worst Enemy."
> 
> Like in the first fic, the canon secondary characters are my main characters, and vice versa. So I won't be rehashing everything in canon—you can assume a lot of that stuff is happening off-screen if it's not contradicted by what I write, and I may or may not refer to it later. I also plan to make some pretty big departures from canon toward the end. But I'll be taking my time writing this fic at a more leisurely pace than the previous one, since I want to see what canon gives us in Vol. 8 that I might or might not want to weave in somehow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who might have missed it, Tumblr user goosegrumble came up with the brilliant name Team ONQR ("encore"), which I've decided to make their official team name! Roman still takes issue with it, though :) 
> 
> I made a lil team graphic here:  
> https://elektricangel.tumblr.com/post/627195229405052928

As Roman clawed his way out of the freezing snow, he thought it was probably a fitting metaphor that their journey to Atlas would begin with a train wreck.

Despite Roman’s and Ice Queen’s adamant objections to the idea, they were making their way to Atlas to ensure the safety of the Relic of Knowledge, since Raven couldn’t be relied on to keep it locked away in the vault at Haven even if her identity as the Spring Maiden hadn’t been compromised. Not to mention, Haven was currently in the process of seeking new management following the “mysterious demise” of its headmaster. Ozpin had considered taking the Relic to Shade Academy in Vacuo, but after Lionheart’s betrayal, his confidence in Shade’s headmaster had been shaken. For some reason, his trust in General Ironwood ran deeper, and it was indisputable that Atlas was the most stable kingdom with the strongest defenses, even with Salem’s agents already operating there. For all they knew, she had people in Vacuo, too. The fact that Roman would be a very unwelcome visitor in Atlas seemed to be of secondary importance to him. “James will be reasonable once I explain the situation,” he’d said. And that was that. End of conversation. They were going to Atlas, even if finding a means of crossing the militant kingdom’s closed borders might end up being a problem that required a “creative” solution.

Once he’d decided on their destination, Oz had pulled Little Red away from the rest of the group to talk, “team leader to team leader.”

“I thought Torchwick said he was your team leader,” she’d said, following him outside into the courtyard while the others started packing for the trip.

“We have differing opinions on the matter,” Ozpin sighed. “As well as…differing areas of expertise. But perhaps the most important quality in a team leader is that they are capable of making difficult decisions.” He stopped walking and turned to face Red. “I would not have made you the leader of Team RWBY if I did not believe you had that capacity.”

“I’m getting the feeling this isn’t just a casual…let’s plan our trip itinerary...kind of conversation,” she said.

“I would not normally put you in this position, but...” Ozpin pursed his lips, reluctant to continue with what he had already decided to divulge. It was situations like these that he had intended to avoid by keeping certain information to himself. But in the interest of rebuilding trust, and in light of Jinn’s admonition, he had decided on a middle path in this case. “You are responsible for your teammates, and you know them best. I have already informed my team of what I am about to tell you, so we will be prepared. I leave it up to you whether or not to inform your team.”

Red pulled her cape around her shoulders and twisted the fabric in her hands. “Okay, now you’re making me nervous.”

“That is just what I was hoping to avoid,” Ozpin sighed. “Our dilemma is this: the Relics are imbued with divine light that attracts creatures of darkness—the Grimm—like moths to flame. That is another reason I keep them locked away in the vaults. Their pull is not as strong as something like the wyvern, but any Grimm in the immediate area will sense the Lamp’s presence, and be drawn to its power. However, if the Lamp also happens to be surrounded by people projecting negative emotions, such as apprehension of an attack…”

“More Grimm,” Red murmured.

“That is the risk.”

“Ren’s Semblance—“

“Would be exhausted long before we reach Atlas, even if Mr. Arc were to use his own to amplify it,” said Ozpin. “My team is capable of keeping their emotions in check—Qrow and I as Huntsmen, and Roman and Neo, well, they, too had to learn to do so in their...profession. Such mental training would have been part of your third- and fourth-year education at Beacon, but... Well. The choice you must make now is between knowledge and ignorance. She would appreciate the irony.” He rested a hand on the Lamp where it hung from Roman’s belt at his hip. “So, knowing what you do now, do you think your teammates would still wish to know, even if it increases the risk to themselves, and to others?”

Red looked back toward the house, at the window her friends passed by every few moments as they gathered up their scant belongings. “No,” she said. “Not if it means putting innocent people in more danger.”

Ozpin nodded. He placed a hand on her shoulder and leaned down to address her eye-to-eye, his own eyes glowing a faint emerald. “Do _you_ still wish to know?”

Red’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “Yes!” she squeaked. He allowed his hand to fall back down at his side, and he straightened, giving her her space. He’d had to present her with all of her options, even if none of them were good. “I–I mean,” she said, frowning, “I think I’ll be a better leader if I know the danger we’re facing.”

“There is wisdom in your decision,” said Ozpin, giving her a reassuring smile.

_‘I still think telling her is a mistake. Jinn said you’re supposed to listen to me on stuff like this.’_

_‘She also said we could not do this alone.’_

Red’s voice took on a tentative, introspective tone when she asked, “Is this what it’s like for you, Professor? Always having to wonder…if the truth is more dangerous than a lie?”

Ozpin startled slightly at the question. But Roman had long since learned that the girl was always more perceptive than she seemed. “Yes,” Ozpin admitted.

“Thank you for trusting me,” she said.

“You shouldn’t thank me for it. Knowing the truth will only ever put you in greater danger. My trust paints a target on the people closest to me.”

She glanced away. “My silver eyes have already done that...”

Roman heard Qrow’s voice in his head, then, another echo from Oz’s past life. _“She has her mother’s eyes.”_ He sounded so sad as he said it. Suddenly, Roman could see the Huntsman standing right in front of him, a baby with big silver eyes and bundled in a red onesie bouncing in his arms.

_“She’ll have Beacon’s finest looking out for her,” he promised. Even after everything he’d done to avoid the pain of attachments he would inevitably lose, he couldn’t stop loving the man before him no matter how hard he tried, and he was suddenly, helplessly devoted to a child that wasn’t his._

_“I’m counting on it,” Qrow sighed. “Anyway, Summer and I have put off this mission of yours as long as possible, but Tai had to choose tonight of all nights to go on his first date since Raven, and he’s left Yang with his sister. But the woman_ hates _kids, and I think she might snap if we dropped another one on her doorstep, so…we thought of you.” Qrow ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the great gears turning slowly above them. “I mean, I figure you must’ve done this before.”_

_He had indeed raised many children throughout his lives, but his current host seemed to have the parental instincts of a tea kettle, because he was suddenly at a loss for what to do with the little life Qrow was about to leave in his hands. Still, whenever Qrow asked something of him, he could not refuse. “Oh yes, many times,” he assured the Huntsman._

_Qrow’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his gaze. “How many times are we talking?”_

_It was his turn to be flustered. “Er, well, most of my children I inherited from my hosts…” In fact, that was true of all of them since his first four little girls. He could never bring himself to father children of his own volition after what had happened to them. He would not willingly put another child in that kind of danger again. Hence, why he had refused Qrow when he’d asked those years ago._

_Qrow didn’t press him on it. “Well, you’re Dad again for a day,” he said, handing over the baby. He ruffled the girl’s tuft of dark hair, and she giggled. Then he turned away and stepped up onto the windowsill. “Just don’t toss her off a cliff,” he said, looking back over his shoulder._

_“Not until she’s older,” he promised._

_Qrow laughed. Their eyes lingered on each other a little too long. But then, Qrow was gone, leaving nothing but a black feather behind, gently drifting to the floor. Well, that and his child._

_He looked down at the baby in his arms, and for a moment, he thought she was looking back up at him. But then he noticed the turning gears reflected in her silver eyes, and he realized she was staring at them, her eyes wide with wonder._

_He smiled somewhat conspiratorially. “Would you like to take a closer look?” he whispered. Carefully, he cradled the child in magic, encircling her in a protective bubble of emerald light. She gurgled and pawed curiously at the magical barrier, but she didn’t seem to be reacting badly, so gradually, he lifted his hands and allowed her to float up toward the ceiling. Delighted giggles drifted down to him in her wake, letting him know she was enjoying the experience._

_Just then, the elevator doors to his office slid open, and he froze. Glynda was standing there, as rigid as he was. Her voice was soft but urgent when she finally spoke. “Sir, put the infant down.”_

_He did as she said and slowly lowered the baby back down into his arms. She was burbling and giggling excitedly, making grabby hands up at the ceiling and squirming in his grasp, as though she thought she would float again if he let her go, rather than fall. “We were only playing,” he said sheepishly._

_Glynda approached him cautiously, as though he held a bomb in his arms rather than a baby. “Do you need help, sir?”_

_“I…” He nearly refused, but Glynda was rarely so generous, and when she did offer aid, the circumstances were usually dire. “Perhaps I do.”_

He looked back down into Red’s silver eyes, which were now fixed on him in vague concern. He shook his head to clear away the lingering fogginess of the flashback. “What Jinn said… It doesn’t have to be you. It _shouldn’t_ be you,” he told her. “There are others out there like you, like your mother, with much more experience using their power. Once we’ve secured the Relics and thwarted Salem’s operatives, Qrow and I will search for them. If he can find the Maidens, I have no doubt he’ll be able to locate the remaining Silver-Eyed Warriors. Like you said, they aren’t difficult to spot.”

“Qrow told me your plan,” said Red. “But what if they die…like my mom…all because I couldn’t fight my own battle?”

“It _isn’t_ your battle,” said Ozpin sternly. But he softened his tone when her lower lip began to tremble. “And it wasn’t your mother’s, either. It’s mine. And if I could fight it alone, I would.”

Red frowned. “No one should have to fight alone,” she said.

“You are so much like your parents,” said Ozpin. “The best of both of them.”

Red looked unsure. After all, she didn’t remember much of her mother, and she’d spent most of her life believing her father was someone else. “Y-you don’t really know me that well…”

“That’s true,” Ozpin admitted. “Although Qrow told me so much about you as you were growing up, I can’t help but feel as though I watched you grow along with him. We actually met on a few occasions when you were very young. Although, as I recall, you were far more interested in my brooch than you were in me. You even tried to steal it off my sweater,” he chuckled.

Red raised her hands to her cheeks as though she could hold back the blush rising in them. “Oh, that is so embarrassing,” she mumbled.

“You may have inherited Qrow’s eye for shiny objects,” said Ozpin with a smile.

Red’s blush only deepened and spread to the tips of her ears. “Um, about you and Qrow…”

Oz stiffened. “He loved your mother very much. We never...er, not while he and Summer—“

“That’s not what I was gonna ask,” Red interjected swiftly. “But, uh, thanks for letting me know.”

“Oh. What… _were_ you going to ask?” prompted Ozpin reluctantly.

“You love him too, right?”

Ozpin’s breath hitched. But his answer came easily. “Yes.”

“Okay,” said Red, nodding to herself. She seemed content to leave it at that, but then another thought occurred to her, and she cringed as though she were suddenly anticipating being hit by a truck. “And, uh…Torchwick?”

_‘Say one gods damn word and I will just fucking scream. I don’t need to breathe as long as you’re in control.’_

“Despite appearances, I cannot actually speak for him,” said Ozpin carefully.

Red’s face screwed up in conflict, both wanting to press him for an actual answer, and very much not wanting to. “He wouldn’t… _hurt_ Qrow—I mean, you wouldn’t let him…right?”

Ozpin swallowed, all of the times he _had_ let Roman hurt Qrow—because Qrow had rather enjoyed it—running through his mind. “Of course not,” he lied.

“Okay,” Red repeated. “I’m…gonna go…start packing, then.” She slowly backed away, gave an awkward little salute, looked embarrassed with herself for it, turned on her heel and bounded back to the house.

There was a telltale fluttering of wings behind him, and Ozpin looked over his shoulder to see Qrow standing there. “I got us tickets on the Argus Limited,” said the Huntsman. “Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?” asked Ozpin vaguely, fighting back his own embarrassment.

“About the Lamp.”

“Oh. Yes. She took it well, I think.”

Qrow smiled. “I told ya she would. I know Roman disagrees, but I think it’s best if she knows. We need to be ready for anything.”

But being ready hadn’t been enough to prevent a whole pack of manticores from descending on the train hours later, or a sphinx from blasting the entire tail section off the tracks with them on it. Red and Oz had urged Team JNR to corral the passengers to the front, and Kitty Cat had uncoupled the cars, allowing the others to continue on ahead, Moody’s Semblance shielding them all from the attention of the Grimm with help from Blondie, while Team RWBY stayed behind with him, Neo, Qrow and the Relic to slay the monsters.

A pink umbrella popped out of the snow beside him, Neo safe and dry beneath it. She helped pull him out of the snow bank while Qrow helped the others.

“Is everyone okay?” Qrow asked, once they were all present and accounted for.

"I did a yard sale," Red announced, pulling her scythe out of the snow, and then bending to pick up the scattered dust ammunition all around her. "If anyone sees any bullets, they're probably mine."

"I'll be okay if Bumblebee's okay," said Fisticuffs, shoveling snow off her bright yellow bike with both hands.

“I’m fine,” Ice Queen huffed, brushing snow from her sleeves.

“Yeah,” said Kitty Cat, sounding somewhat less convincing.

“Still alive!” croaked an unfamiliar voice from behind them. They all turned in shock to see a little old woman step out of one of the smoking train cars. “That sure was a close one, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin: Whose decision was it to place children in my care?
> 
> Glynda: It was yours, sir.
> 
> Ozpin: Ah. A terrible decision, in retrospect.
> 
> ~
> 
> Ruby: About you and Qrow…
> 
> Ozpin: Parent-teacher conferences might be a little awkward, but—
> 
> Ruby: That’s not what I was going to ask.
> 
> Ozpin: He’s actually been sleeping on the couch about half the time—
> 
> Ruby: Nope.
> 
> Ozpin: I’ll admit there’s quite an age difference, but technically I was only two years older than him as his headmaster—
> 
> Ruby: Still no.
> 
> Ozpin: You probably have enough father figures in your life, but if you happened to see me as such—
> 
> Ruby: Wait, what?
> 
> [A/N: I made yet another playlist, this time for the Ozpin/Roman side of this Cloqwork Orange triangle. Not sure yet if it makes sense to develop that more in this story, though. We’ll see... https://8tracks.com/elektricangel/narcissist ]


	2. Living Legends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm taking this one at a leisurely pace," I say as I write two chapters in two days. I do want to get them to Atlas fairly quickly though, and then I might take a bit of a hiatus until V8. We'll see.
> 
> Instead of everyone ganging up on Oz, I give you: Qrow and Oz fanboying over Maria 🤗

“This is just great! We're stranded, we lost a third of our party, and we've _gained_ a defenseless old lady!” Fisticuffs grit her teeth and with one final heave, she managed to haul her bike free of the snow—only to topple over backwards, her precious Bumblebee nearly landing on top of her.

Although even Neo had a couple inches on her, the hunched old woman stood a little taller in her own defense. “My _name_ is Maria Calavera.”

_‘My gods, Maria! I didn’t recognize her after all these years.’_

There was something unsettlingly _giddy_ in Ozpin’s tone that made Roman scrutinize their new friend more closely. ‘ _You know the old crone?’_

_‘It was lifetimes ago… Oh, Qrow is going to get such a kick out of this.’_

_‘Uh, why?’_

But the woman kept talking. “And I am not defenseless! I'm just a little hard of hearing. And blind without my eyes, that are in desperate need of repair.” She tapped her digital prosthetic optical rig gingerly, the apertures of the goggles flickering at random before settling into narrowly open slits. “Okay, I'm starting to see your point.”

“Metaphorically speaking,” said Ice Queen.

“Weiss!” Fisticuffs snapped in a warning tone, her eyes blazing fire as she struggled to her feet with her bike.

Ice Queen pouted. “Why is it never the right time when I do it?”

“Yang, knock it off, will ya?” said Qrow. “If we lose our cool now, we'll just be inviting even more Grimm.”

Fisticuffs took a deep breath, releasing it slowly through her nose. Training with Neo _had_ forced her to work on reigning in that temper of hers, but still, the way her breath turned to steam on the cold air made her rather resemble a fire-breathing dragon. “Why did you two want us to stay behind?” she demanded, turning to Roman and Red. “I don’t see why we had to separate.”

Roman shrugged off the implied accusation. “That wasn’t me.”

“Ren and Jaune can’t keep using their Semblances like that for long,” said Red. “If we didn’t stay behind and kill the Grimm while the others got the passengers to safety, the Grimm could have caught up with the train again.”

Fisticuffs eyed her sister suspiciously. It wasn’t half bad, for a justification she came up with on the spot. It was the delivery that was lacking. “You’re a terrible liar, Ruby.”

Red fisted both hands in her hair and pulled. “Ugh, I am!” she moaned. “But I promise there’s a good reason. It’s just that if I tell you, it’ll only make things harder for us right now. I promise…I’ll tell you guys once we get to Argus safely,” she decided.

“Did Ozpin put you up to this?” Fisticuffs asked. “You two have been talking a lot.”

“It’s my decision as team leader, and I’m making it because it’s what’s best for the team and for our mission,” Red insisted. “I know you still don’t totally trust Ozpin, but you trust me, right?”

Fisticuffs looked conflicted. “Of course I do, little Sis.”

“You promise you’ll tell us when we get to Argus?” Ice Queen pressed. “Because I’m honestly getting tired of people deciding what’s best for me.”

“I promise, Weiss,” said Red. “And I think…I hope you’ll all agree that it really was best to wait for just a little while.”

“Fine,” Ice Queen sighed. Then she looked to Kitty Cat, who’d been even more quiet than usual since the crash. “Blake?”

Kitty Cat seemed to come back to the conversation from miles away. “Oh uh, I’m sure Ruby has a good reason for keeping some things to herself for now,” she said.

Maria cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t know what you’re all talking about, but we need to get a move on. It'll be dark before we know it, and my joints only start aching like this when there’s a storm brewing,” she said, rubbing her wrists. “There's a trail over there, trails usually lead somewhere. At any rate, I’ll be damned if I've lived this long just to die out here in the cold.”

“She’s right,” said Qrow. “A storm’s coming. We need to find shelter.”

Roman looked up at the sky, but it was just an endless blanket of pale cloud, sprinkling light snow down on them like powdered sugar. Still, Qrow’s “animal instincts” were usually right. “So we’re just…bringing the blind old bat along with us?” he asked, to be sure they were all on the same page of stupid.

“I’m not _completely_ blind, handsome,” said Maria, with a twitch of one of her ocular apertures that might have passed for a wink. Roman shuddered.

“He’s not _that_ handsome,” Ice Queen grumbled as Fisticuffs helped the old woman up onto her bike so she could push both of them along as they started walking down the trail Maria had pointed out. “Personality matters. Not to mention a heart, and a soul.”

“Technically, he has two souls, doesn’t he?” Kitty Cat murmured. She was still catching up.

“Maybe that makes up for not having a heart,” Fisticuffs scoffed.

“Heart or not, I have two perfectly good ears,” said Roman, bringing up the rear with Neo and Qrow.

“My ears aren’t what they used to be,” said Maria, getting comfortable on the bike as Fisticuffs did all the heavy lifting, “but what was that about two souls?”

“Uh, he actually has a split personality,” said Red nervously. She really was a terrible liar. “Sometimes he acts like a totally different person! A much nicer…person.”

“It’s a more common condition than you might think,” said Ice Queen, coming to her teammate’s assistance. “My butler has seven different personalities.”

“Wait, really?” Red whispered.

“Yeah. So I’m actually sort of used to…that.” Ice Queen gestured to Roman with a wave of her hand.

Roman flipped her off.

“You’re a rather odd bunch,” said Maria.

“That’s us in a nutshell,” Qrow chuckled. “So what’s your story, Maria?”

“Young man, when you’re as old as I am, you have quite a lot of story to tell.”

Qrow smirked. “I’m used to that. And we’ve got the time. Lay it on us.”

Roman rolled his eyes and lit a cigar, taking a drag. He was getting real sick of story time. Especially as a transparent attempt to keep the kids distracted from their feelings. Maria caught onto Qrow’s intent, too, folding her hands in her lap over her peculiar skull-headed cane and preparing to indulge his request. “Believe it or not, I used to be a Huntress like all of you,” she said. “Of course, that was back when the profession was relatively new. There were no mission boards back then, so I found my own work, traveling all across Remnant to wherever I was needed most. I had my share of adventures, too when I was young. But it seems like a lifetime ago, now, like it was all someone else.”

” _You_ used be a _Huntress_?” Fisticuffs could hardly hide her skepticism.

”Wait, that cane of yours...” Qrow stopped in his tracks. “No way.” His tone brought everyone else to a halt as they all looked back at him questioningly. “That’s the Grimm Reaper’s weapon! It’s you!”

Maria startled, nearly losing her grip on the cane in question. But from the others’ lack of reaction, she and Qrow were the only ones to whom that name meant something. 

“Oh, come on!” said Qrow. “None of you kids have heard of the _Grimm Reaper?_ What was Barty teaching you all that time? She was a legend! Probably the greatest Huntress in history!”

They all looked at each other blankly. Roman hadn’t heard of her, either. He looked over at Neo, and she shrugged. “That was a long time ago,” Maria said dismissively. “But I appreciate the flattery, young man.”

“It’s not flattery,” Qrow insisted, jogging up to talk to her face-to-face. “You were my hero! I– I had posters of you in my dorm at Beacon.” The shutters on Maria’s goggles did an odd little flutter at that. “Hell, I even based my weapon on yours.”

Maria peered over at the weapon in question. “That appears to be some sort of sword. I wielded—“

Qrow pulled his blade from his back and extended it into the form he favored most. “Scythes,” he said.

“Oh! Then my weapon is technically based on yours, too,” said Red excitedly, extending her own scythe with a spin before cuddling it close to her chest. “I call her Crescent Rose.”

Roman let out a smoky sigh. “So I have her to thank for the sudden surplus of scythes in my life,” he muttered.

_‘She really was quite something in her day.’_

“Would– would it be weird if I asked you to sign my weapon?” said Qrow.

Maria frowned, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. Finally, she relented. “You got a pen?”

“Yes!” said Qrow, patting down his pockets. “I grabbed one to write down train times.” He held up said pen triumphantly, only for his face to fall when he realized it was broken and leaking black ink through his fingers, dripping down onto the snow. “Ah, shit. Well, can I get a picture with you, at least?” he asked, pulling out his scroll.

“I’m not exactly looking my best, having just narrowly survived a train wreck and all,” said Maria, patting down her frazzled grey hair into some semblance of order. “But I suppose, for a fan…”

Qrow grinned and held out his scroll in front of them both, only for the screen to flash an empty battery symbol and go dark. His breath hitched in the way a man’s might if he were on the verge of tears. “Today just isn’t your lucky day, is it?” Maria remarked. “Well, we really should keep moving, anyway.” She patted Fisticuffs on the shoulder like a rider would pat her horse to encourage it to keep trudging onward.

The others started walking again, leaving Qrow standing crestfallen with his broken pen and dead scroll in either hand. Neo stared hard at Maria, squinting in focus, and then a wave of tessellating illusion glass enveloped her, and the next second, she appeared to be an exact clone of the old Huntress. She smiled up at Qrow and took out her own scroll, miming taking a photo of the two of them.

Qrow frowned. “I don’t want a picture with _you_.”

Neo’s smile thinned and she let the illusion drop, turning away from him in a huff to keep walking with the others. Roman threw an arm around Qrow’s shoulders and ushered him on. “Are you sure it’s Oz you’re in love with and not our dear Maria?”

“Shut up,” Qrow grumbled, shaking off Roman’s arm and walking ahead on his own.

To Roman’s surprise, Ozpin took control, tossing his cigar away into the snow.

_'Hey! Those are imported!'_

But evidently, he only wanted to talk to the old lady himself. “Er, I believe my…grandfather was actually an acquaintance of yours back in the day, Ms. Calavera,” he said.

Everyone looked to Oz curiously, Maria included. “You must be the polite one,” she muttered. “I’m afraid my memory isn’t what it used to be, either, young man, but why don’t you try me? If his looks were anything like yours, I may remember him.”

“I think you’d remember him regardless,” said Ozpin, “as the last King of Vale.”

“Oh, Ozzy,” Maria said.

Ozpin smiled. “You were the only one who ever called him that.”

“Well, Ozymandias was a bit of a mouthful, even for a king,” she said. “Of course I remember him. He sought me out to ask me if I’d fight alongside him in the war.”

“And you refused him,” said Ozpin, without a hint of resentment. In fact, he admired her for it.

“Oh yes,” said Maria. “To be honest, I could hardly stand the guy.”

Oz gaped at her, dumbstruck. “W-what?”

“Oh, his heart was in the right place,” said Maria. “But everything was about _the fate of humanity_ with him, which is a little self-important if you ask me. The man was more drama queen than king.”

Roman cackled delightedly. _‘Alright, I like this old broad. I see why Qrow’s such a fan.’_

Qrow was chuckling, too, evidently having recovered somewhat from his funk. He patted Oz on the back in consolation. “So uh, what made you get out of the game, Maria?” he asked. “Your career was meteoric, and then you just dropped off the radar. We all sort of assumed you were dead.”

Her countenance suddenly looked as grim as her alias suggested. “Not all stories have happy endings,” she said. The sky was darkening, and the wind and snow were picking up. “We need to get inside soon.”

There were no structures in sight, although they couldn’t see very far through the slanting snow. “I thought trails led somewhere,” said Fisticuffs sarcastically.

“Do you have nothing better to do than to harass a defenseless old lady?” Maria harrumphed.

“Everyone, quiet,” said Red. “Do you hear that?”

They all stopped walking and listened. There was a faint, high-pitched metallic screeching in the wind. They headed toward the sound, and beyond the white veil of snow, the silhouettes of a few rustic buildings began to appear. The source of the sound was the front gate of the remote settlement swinging back and forth on its hinges in the storm. As they approached, a wooden sign hanging above it came into view, the name “Brunswick Farms” scrolled across its face.

“It looks abandoned,” Ice Queen said.

“A lot of places like this are,” said Qrow. “But it’s better than the storm. Come on.”

_‘Oz. I don’t like this.’_

_‘I understand why,’_ Ozpin responded, infuriatingly soothing and calm. _‘But we need to take shelter or we’ll freeze out here. This storm doesn’t look like it will last long. We can leave first thing in the morning.’_

As he followed the others into the farmyard, the wind changed direction and the gate clanged shut behind them one final time.

 _‘Well that bodes well,’_ said Roman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Flashback ~
> 
> Qrow, day drunk on Oz's sofa back in Mistral: It's gonna rain today.
> 
> Roman, about to step out with Neo: What are you talking about? It's sunny. The forecast is clear.
> 
> Qrow: Birds can sense this shit.
> 
> Roman, squinting at Qrow in confusion: You're not a bird right now, though.
> 
> Qrow, slurring his words: How do /you/ know?
> 
> Roman: *leaves without another word*
> 
> The weather: *torrential downpour an hour later*
> 
> Neo: *has an umbrella*
> 
> Roman: *does not*
> 
> ~ The present ~
> 
> Qrow: A storm's coming.
> 
> Roman: Shit.


	3. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the Brunswick Farms fan theory, and this is as close as I could get to it with my existing backstory for Roman. Plus, perfect spooky season timing, if I do say so myself 🎃
> 
> Omen, from Latin — a portent of good or evil

No matter how hard he tried, Roman couldn’t suppress the urge to take Neo and run. He knew it was irrational. They had passed through dozens of places like this on their travels of late, deserted settlements with their skeletal structures left standing like mausoleums. But none of them had reminded him so much of home.

Maybe it was in the name. Of course, Roman had made a new name for himself when he'd taken up a life of crime. And Neo had chosen her own name once she was old enough, never having been given one at birth. It seemed like a lifetime ago now, but...Roman's given name had been Omen Brunswick. And he recalled now that he'd had relatives in Mistral—a cousin in particular that he remembered. He’d only met the other boy once, but he’d liked him. They’d shared a certain mischievous streak that had vexed their parents to no end. The day they’d spent together on Roman’s childhood farm, they’d taken the horses out for a ride without permission, and Roman’s father had dunked their heads in the water trough for it when they got back. “You two are lucky you made it back alive! There are monsters out there even the fastest horses can’t outrun,” he’d scolded them.

Roman hadn’t thought about his cousin in a very long time. But if this had been _his_ home, it looked like it had gone the way of Roman’s. What had happened here? Whatever it was, had he made it out, like Roman had? Or had he not been so lucky?

_‘If he was anything like you, I’m sure he would have found a way to survive.’_

_‘He’s not the one I’m worried about,’_ Roman retorted sharply. He was starting to make even Oz jumpy. He wanted to reach out and grab Neo’s hand so badly, his fingers twitched.

Oz clenched them into a fist instead. _‘Get ahold of yourself. Or you’ll only be putting her in greater danger.’_

Of course, Neo didn’t miss a thing. She looked up at him with understanding, and gave him a small, reassuring smile that did more to calm Roman’s nerves than Ozpin ever could. She wasn’t a defenseless child anymore, and neither was he. Whatever horrors the world had in store for them, they could give as good as they got. They had shown many a monster that they, too had claws.

“I don't get it,” said Little Red as they walked between the outbuildings toward the main house. “The empty towns I've passed through were all damaged or unfinished. But this place looks…fine.”

“Maybe everyone left in a hurry,” Ice Queen mused. “Before things took a turn?”

They reached the house and Qrow tried the door, but it was locked. Which was odd, for a place that had been abandoned. “Hm,” he said. “Stay on guard.”

The others drew their weapons as he prepared to kick down the door, but Ozpin finally allowed Roman to retake control to stop him from doing so. He gripped Qrow’s shoulder and pulled him away from the door. “Let’s not announce our arrival just yet,” he said, kneeling in front of the door and pulling his lock picks from his glove. “Anyway, we’ll want to be able to lock this door again.”

Qrow teetered and regained his footing, shooting Roman a mildly annoyed glare. But he drew his own weapon as Roman worked, and Roman knew Qrow and his sister had his back.

The latch clicked, and Roman pushed open the door quietly, slipping his lock picks back within his glove. He flicked off the safety on the handle of his cane as he stepped inside the darkened home. At first glance, the house really did seem abandoned with no signs of life. But that didn’t mean there was nothing there.

“Pair off and sweep the place,” he hissed to the others behind him.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?” Fisticuffs grumbled with a weary sigh. But the kids correctly assumed that whenever Roman gave orders, it was with Ozpin’s tacit approval, so they did as he said and split off to search the house. Qrow stayed with Maria to check the front rooms, and Roman took Neo down the hall to the back of the house.

He meant to do a swift and efficient sweep, but he stopped in front of a picture hanging in the hall. It was a photo of the Brunswick family standing out in front of the house. In it, Roman recognized his cousin, not much older than he’d been when Roman had met him, and with his same red hair. The boy was grinning at the camera without a care in the world. But the young brunette girl standing next to him was clearly camera shy, angling herself behind him and away from the photographer. Roman remembered now—he’d said he had a younger sister back at home.

Roman nearly kept walking without saying a word. But he had always felt guilty that he didn’t have any pictures of their parents to show Neo, and this was the next best thing. He pulled the picture down off the wall and handed it to her. “These people were relatives of ours—aunt and uncle, and cousins, on our father’s side.”

Her eyes widened as she studied the photo, and then looked up at him.

“I never really knew ‘em,” he said, and kept walking.

She took the photo out of the frame, folded it carefully, and tucked it in her pocket.

At the back of the house was a storeroom, a pantry, and a rustic little at-home bar stocked with enough alcohol to sink a dozen sailors. Qrow wouldn’t have believed his luck—if he weren’t two weeks sober. Surprisingly, the Huntsman hadn’t touched a drop since the day he’d told Little Red who he really was to her. Now hardly seemed like the time for self-improvement projects in Roman’s opinion, but Red and Fisticuffs appreciated the effort, at least. And of course, Ozpin was being saccharinely supportive about the whole thing. It left Roman with an unsettling feeling, much like this house—he was surrounded by the trappings of a family he had never known.

He grabbed a bottle of one of the spirits from the bar to use as a fire-starter, and continued onward to take closer stock of the pantry. All of the perishables had long since spoiled and the faint stench of rot still clung to the air, but there was plenty of canned food for them to make a meal out of. A set of doors in the floor probably led down into a wine cellar or a curing chamber of some kind, but the handles were chained together, and the lock looked rusted shut.

“Take your pick,” he told Neo, gesturing to the shelves. She reached out to grab a can of peaches, but a high-pitched scream from somewhere in the house had her reaching for her weapon instead.

Ozpin took back control and ran toward the sound with Neo right on his heels. It was one of the girls, and it had come from upstairs. Coming from the farthest away, they were the last ones to arrive. The others were crowded into the master bedroom, such that it wasn’t immediately apparent what had caused the commotion. Maria was fiddling with her goggles to get a better look into the room. Qrow was holding Fisticuffs and Kitty Cat back from going any further, and neither of them was fighting him. At the front of the group, Ice Queen and Little Red stood holding each other and trembling, Ice Queen’s breaths coming hard and harsh, while Red was hardly breathing at all.

Ozpin slipped past them all to see what had given them such a fright. Lying in the bed tucked peacefully under the blankets were a pair of desiccated corpses.

_‘Oh fuck! I told you I had a bad feeling about this place!’_

Despite all of Roman’s instincts screaming at him to back the fuck out of that room, Ozpin reached out and pulled the blankets back from the bodies. “I don’t see any injuries on them,” he said.

“What the hell happened here?” said Qrow.

Neo unfolded the Brunswick family photo and held it up in front of the corpses. The lifeless husks were hardly recognizable as human beings anymore, let alone the people they once were, but what remained of their hair and builds certainly resembled the mother and father in the photograph. Roman was suddenly much more doubtful that his cousin, or anyone, had made it out of this place alive.

~ * ~

“It’s the same in every house,” said Qrow, shoving the front door shut against the howling wind and stomping snow from his shoes. “Bodies in every bed in every home. It's like the whole estate just went to sleep and never woke up.”

They were all huddled around the hearth in the study where they’d gotten a feeble fire burning while Qrow had gone out to check the other buildings. “Then we’re not staying here, right?” Ice Queen practically pleaded.

“We don’t have a choice.” Qrow crossed the room to join them by the fire, snow beginning to melt and drip drown his hair, clothes and fingers. He shivered and hunched down to warm his hands in front of the flames. “Storm outside's only getting worse. We'd freeze to death before we made it anywhere. I noticed a flatbed wagon outside. Yang, we can hitch it to your bike and hightail it outta here in the morning. Until then, no one goes anywhere alone.”

Maria stood and ran her fingers over the spines of the books nestled in the wall-to-wall bookshelf. “Well, might as well get comfortable.”

“Fat chance,” Fisticuffs scoffed.

Neo unfolded the photograph again and showed it to Qrow, pointing to the Brunswick children. Qrow scratched his head and gave her a helpless look of incomprehension. Roman sighed. “She wants to know if you saw those kids on the farm anywhere. They’d be about our ages now.”

“I dunno,” said Qrow, frowning. “It’s hard to tell with some of ‘em… Oh gods, I’m sorry. Did you two know these people?”

“No,” Roman replied. “And there’s no reason to be sorry. People who choose to live in places like this get what’s coming to them, sooner or later.”

Neo took one last look at the photograph, then tossed it into the fire and watched it burn.

“That well outside… Could it have been water contamination?” asked Kitty Cat.

“Maybe,” said Qrow. “Anyone gets thirsty, just eat snow. There’s plenty of it.” Quieter, so Maria wouldn’t be able to hear, he asked Roman, “Has Oz ever seen anything like this?”

“No.” Roman laughed, even though it felt like it took an effort just to fake it. “And that’s saying something.”

“Well, if this place wasn't abandoned,” said Red, finally finding her voice again, “it might still have supplies we could use.”

A more genuine chuckle escaped Roman at that. “A surprisingly cold-blooded suggestion from Little Red.”

“Huh?” she said, taken aback. “I–I didn’t mean it like that.”

Roman got to his feet, stretching out muscles that had grown stiff from the cold. “The pantry’s fully stocked. Neo and I’ll grab some grub if you lot can rustle up a means of cooking it, and maybe some blankets that _haven’t_ been bundling up dead bodies.”

“Need another pair of hands?” Qrow offered as he and Neo made to leave the room.

 _‘No.’_ Ozpin didn’t want Qrow to find the booze.

“You should stay with your _hero_ , don’t you think?” Roman made doe eyes in Maria’s direction, and Qrow huffed in annoyance.

“Perhaps you could help me get my eyes working properly,” Maria suggested. “It appears the owner of this farm kept journals. They may prove interesting, if I could read the damn things.”

“That might not be the best idea,” said Qrow, but he crossed to join her by the bookshelf regardless. “High-tech gadgets and I don’t always get along.”

By the time Roman and Neo returned with arms full of an odd but hearty assortment of food, Maria and Qrow had apparently gone out to the tool shed to try to find a screwdriver and pliers. They set their haul down by the fire where Red and Ice Queen had assembled an array of pots, pans and utensils, and they got to work making a meal of what may have been the Brunswicks’ last supper. Fisticuffs and Kitty Cat descended the stairs soon afterward, dwarfed by the heaps of blankets and bedding they were carrying. They deposited everything in a mountain in the middle of the floor, then Fisticuffs joined them by the fire while Kitty Cat wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and stood staring morosely out the window into the storm.

Roman jerked his chin in her direction. “What’s the matter with Kitty? She see a dog out there or something?”

“Something like that,” said Fisticuffs, as dour as her friend. “I’ve got a question for Ozpin.”

Roman’s grip tightened around the kitchen knife in his hand, but Ozpin swiftly took control, and resumed slicing the rice cake in front of him to toss into their makeshift stew. “What is it, Ms. Xiao Long?”

“We’re risking a lot to bring the Lamp to Atlas,” she said, staring at the Relic hanging at his hip.

“After I risked a lot to _leave_ Atlas,” Ice Queen grumbled from her seat on the sofa. She was completely clueless when it came to cooking, and her teammates seemed to be of the collective opinion that it would be better for everyone if she didn’t help.

Fisticuffs continued. “But the thing is useless for another hundred years, isn’t it? Why isn't some random spot in the middle of nowhere a better place to stash it than an enormous vault where Salem will know exactly where it is? If we just...threw it down that well out there, she might not even find it for who knows how long.”

Ozpin frowned. She was angling at something alarming, and he didn’t understand where it was coming from. “A hundred years is not a long time,” he said. “Not for Salem and I, and not for humanity. She will eventually find the Relics wherever they are hidden, so the aim must instead be to prevent her—and others—access to them. They aren't just dangerous in her hands. They are dangerous in anyone's hands, even my own. That is why they must be secured in the vaults. And as for the Lamp...Jinn will only lie dormant for another twenty years. I asked my first question of this cycle eighty years ago.”

Red cocked her head curiously. “What did you ask her?”

Ozpin’s pain, bitterness and guilt was a dull ache, like an old war wound that had never fully healed. “I asked her how to bring peace to Remnant.”

“Oh,” said Red with a small smile. But his tone gave her pause, and he could see her do the mental arithmetic. Eighty years ago, the Great War came to its shockingly brutal and bloody end. “Oh,” Red said again.

Ozpin couldn’t meet her gaze, turning instead to stare into the fire. The fires of countless wars past seemed to burn there, before his eyes. “We all choose our battles.”

~ * ~

They ate largely in solemn silence, with Maria occasionally reading passages aloud from the journals Roman’s uncle had kept—like a bedtime story and a eulogy rolled into one. She and Qrow had somehow managed to get her eyes working at a marginally improved capacity, but she still had to narrow the shutters on her goggles in such a way that gave the impression she was squinting at the pages. Darkness had fallen outside, and the fire was their only source of light.

“It's a shame, really,” Maria said as she closed one of the leather-bound volumes and began leafing through another. “He seemed like quite the ambitious fellow, always thinking of new schemes to overcome the odds. He could have done so much more with his gifts…”

“Must run in the family,” Roman muttered.

“What’s that, young man?”

“Nothing.” He relayed Ozpin’s suggestion to the rest of the group. “The storm sounds like it’s letting up. You all should call it a night so we can leave first thing in the morning. Qrow and I will keep watch.”

“Hmph. I’m long past the days when I’d let some kid tell me what to do,” Maria said. “I’ll keep the fire burning awhile longer while I read.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Do whatever you want, lady.”

While the kids laid down their bedding on the floor of the study, Neo walked up to him with an expression of clear displeasure. _What about me?_

“Neo, you’re terrible at keeping watch,” he said. “You can’t scream and wake us all up if there’s trouble.” But her frown only deepened, verging on hurt. Roman sighed. He hadn’t meant that quite how it came out. He usually chose his words more carefully. “Hey,” he said, resting his hands on her shoulders. “At least one of us needs to get some decent sleep. Like Qrow says, we need to be ready for anything.”

Neo chewed her lip, then nodded and turned to claim a corner of the room where she could lay out her own share of the blankets. She had given in a lot more easily than usual, but she was clearly tired. They all were.

Roman looked around the room. “Where _is_ Qrow?”

“I think he went to get some more food,” Little Red mumbled sleepily from within a cocoon of blankets.

Roman turned and left the room without another word, making his way down the hall by the spectral light of his scroll. But he and Ozpin already suspected where they would find Qrow. And he did not prove them wrong.

_‘Oh, Qrow.’_

Roman caught the Huntsman’s hunched silhouette in the pale glow from his screen, casting Qrow’s shadow to loom large over him across the shelves of multi-colored bottles. He was sitting at the bar with a bottle in his hand, and another, empty, at his feet. He squinted miserably into the light. “Care to join me?” he rasped.

Roman leaned back against the bar and lit a cigar. He pocketed his scroll, letting the warm, orange glow illuminate the scene instead. “Drinking with you is a dangerous endeavor. After awhile, I start to feel like someone else.”

Qrow laid his head in his crossed arms. “I’d give anything to be someone else.”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit. You wouldn't say that if—” Roman cut himself off. He had little patience for pity, especially self-pity. Qrow’s or his own. “Anyway, Red doesn’t want someone else. Neither does Oz.”

“Ruby already has someone else,” Qrow sighed. “I saw to that. As for Oz, well…” He scoffed. “He sure seems to care an awful lot about _you._ ”

“What?” Roman squinted at Qrow in the dimness, trying to make sense of that statement. Perhaps he was farther gone than he looked.

“Never mind. We already agreed it’s stupid to be jealous of each other.”

 _‘Okay, I’m lost,’_ Roman thought. _‘You talk to him.’_

So Ozpin did. “Roman often accuses me of talking just to hear the sound of my own voice.” He inhaled deeply and sighed out a stream of smoke. “But I’m always here to listen, if you want to talk about what’s troubling you.”

“Oz?” Qrow frowned. “You don’t smoke.”

Ozpin tapped the ash from the tip of the cigar with a cool smile. “We all fall back on bad habits now and then.”

Qrow stared down at the bottle he was clutching. “I don’t think I can do this…without a crutch.”

“I know how hard it is.” Ozpin wrapped his hand around Qrow’s where it was wrapped around the bottle, but Oz didn’t try to take it from him. “And we all know how hard you’re trying. That’s what matters most. Especially to Ruby. Qrow, you are one of the strongest people I know. But we’re all only human, and even the strongest of us need support. I would hope that…you still feel you can rely on me for support.”

Qrow gave him a guarded look. “I want to. But even if I do, you’re only _you_ half the time. The other half, you’re a heartless fucking psychopath who says I’m more fun when I drink.”

Ozpin clenched his jaw, his anger at Roman simmering anew. “I shouldn’t have let him say that to you.”

“I’ll admit, it was almost worth it, watching you slap yourself right after.” Qrow smirked. “That had to sting.”

_‘It did.’_

“If this is my fault…” Ozpin began.

But Qrow cut him off before he could say more. “It’s not you. It’s just…I’ve got a bad feeling, about all of this. Especially Ruby. Especially with me around.”

Ozpin had already promised he would do everything he could to keep the girl safe, but he knew there was nothing he could do to assuage Qrow’s fears that she might meet the same fate as her mother. All he could do, perhaps, was help Qrow feel less afraid of himself. “When Ruby and I were talking earlier, I was reminded of your penchant for collecting trinkets. I started wondering what had become of my brooch, and I hoped…well, you didn’t happen to take it, did you?”

Qrow dipped his hand into the pocket of his vest and pulled out the silver cross in question.

_‘So your boyfriend basically looted your body. Your cane, your glasses, your jewelry. If you shake him upside-down, maybe your watch and cufflinks will fall out.’_

_‘Qrow is sentimental. Something you are not.’_

“I thought about throwing it away, after what you did to me,” said Qrow. “But even then, I couldn’t let it…I couldn’t let you go.” He handed Oz the brooch. “Here. It’s yours. I was just holding onto it.”

“Thank you.” Oz turned the silver cross over in his hand, running his thumb over the smooth, dark stone at the center. “Do you remember what I told you, about what the cross used to symbolize?”

Qrow touched the cross hanging at his own throat. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t really listening to what you were saying when you gave me this one. You were being very…distracting.” Ozpin chuckled and lifted Qrow’s chin with a finger, eyes tracing silver against skin. As he remembered that day, so did Roman—Qrow lying naked in his bed, sprawled carelessly across the sheets while he clasped the cross around the Huntsman’s neck and murmured ancient myths into his ear. Qrow swallowed. “You said something about the Brothers, and…cosmic scales.”

“Humans are created from the light and the darkness,” said Ozpin, tracing one bar of the cross with his finger, and then the other. “We have both within us. In some of us, the light is stronger than the darkness, and in some of us, the darkness is stronger than the light. But no one is made entirely of light, or entirely of darkness. And humanity as a whole should exist in balance with both sides of our nature.” His fingertip lingered at the center of the cross before he ran his hand up the side of Qrow’s neck to gently cup his jaw. “In striving to be better people, we mustn’t lose sight of that which makes us human.”

“Balance, huh?” muttered Qrow. “And I’ve been wearing mine crooked all this time, ever since the chain broke. How come you never said anything?”

Ozpin smiled. “I thought it suited you.” He pressed a kiss to his lover’s lips, and then stood. He dropped the smoldering remains of Roman’s cigar into Qrow’s empty glass and offered the Huntsman his hand.

Qrow took it and let Ozpin lead him like a lamb back to the front of the house—but he also took the bottle. Once he was sure Qrow would follow him, Ozpin let go of his hand to pin his brooch through the knot of Roman’s kerchief while he walked.

_‘Hey, I get that it’s symbolic of the duality of human nature and all, but that old thing’s not really my style.’_

_‘It’s pure silver.’_

_‘…Alright, it can stay.’_

Ozpin pulled two chairs from the study out into the hall so he and Qrow could sit together by the window. Qrow dropped into his chair and kicked his feet up onto the windowsill, taking a swig of wine straight from the bottle. “I can take first watch,” he said. “I’ll wake you at midnight.”

“Alright.” Ozpin settled into his own chair and pulled the brim of Roman’s hat down over his eyes to rest.

_‘You talk a good game, Oz, I’ll give you that. But all that bullshit about the balance of humanity, you don’t really believe it, do you?’_

_‘As a matter of fact, I do. It is that same belief that makes me hopeful that someday you and I will find balance between us.’_

_‘Oh, come on. You wouldn’t have bothered trying to make nice with me if you’d had a choice. And I wouldn’t have, either. You keep trying to convince everyone that humanity is redeemable, but you and I’ve seen the worst of people far more than we’ve seen the best of ‘em. Don’t you ever wonder if humanity’s even worth saving?’_

Ozpin opened his eyes and stared hard at the floor. “Don’t say that,” he hissed under his breath.

_‘Why? Because you really believe people can change? Or because you just don’t want me to say what you’ve been thinking? Face it, Oz, no matter how much faith you put in people, they keep disappointing you.’_

Ozpin glanced up at Qrow from beneath the brim of his hat just as Qrow sighed and raised the bottle to his lips again.

~ * ~

Roman’s eyes slid open at the creak of floorboards from somewhere close by. Little Red was standing in the doorway to the study, staring at him with silver eyes that, in the moonlight, looked as blind and lifeless as the old lady’s. Roman scowled. Qrow could deal with his creepy fucking kid himself. But soft snoring from beside him let him know that the Huntsman was quite literally asleep on the job.

He kicked the legs of Qrow’s chair. “Hey!” he hissed. “What happened to taking the first watch?”

Qrow groaned and draped his arm over his eyes, but he didn’t wake. Red’s gaze dropped to the bottle on the floor beneath his chair, and a small sigh escaped her. But she didn’t seem surprised, or even particularly upset. “I had a weird dream,” she murmured.

“What are you telling me for?” Roman growled at her. This place was seriously starting to get under his skin, and everyone’s odd behavior wasn’t helping.

“I wasn’t really…telling _you_.”

“What was it, Ms. Rose?” Ozpin asked, straightening in his chair.

She rubbed her eyes and took a swaying step forward. She looked like could fall asleep on her feet any second. “It was something about Salem, I don’t really remember,” she mumbled. “But it made me want to ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“What’s dying like?”

Ozpin immediately rose from his chair and crossed the hall to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his to get her to look him in the eye. “Why would you ask me that?”

She frowned, confused by his question. “You’re the only one who knows.”

Ozpin shook his head, trying to figure her out. “I meant, what makes you ask that question at all?”

“Well, I was just wondering if…maybe it’s not really how people think it is. I’ll fight Salem if it comes down to that, if I’m the only one who can. And if the worst that can happen isn’t actually so bad, then maybe Qrow doesn’t have to be so worried about me, or feel so sad about my mom. I mean, you must have died hundreds of times, so how bad can it really be?”

Ozpin squeezed her hands in his. “Ruby, I come back. No one else does.”

A faint scratching sound from somewhere in the darkness down the hall made Roman’s blood run cold. _‘Did you hear that?’_

Ozpin glanced briefly in the direction the sound had come from. “Roman, I hear everything you hear,” he muttered.

More scratching drifted down the hall in the hush of the night. _‘So you fucking heard that, then!’_

“It’s probably just raccoons, Roman. There hasn’t been a living soul in this house for some time. I’d be surprised if other creatures _hadn’t_ moved in.”

The scratching didn’t stop. It was soft but constant, and it was clawing into Roman’s nerves. Roman had never really thought the word “trauma” applied to him unless he was the one inflicting it on others, but Ozpin had used it, so he must understand why Roman couldn’t take another fucking minute of listening to that fucking sound. _‘Well then we need to kill those gods damned raccoons, or I am going to fucking lose it, Oz.’_

 _“Fine.”_ Ozpin stood. “Stay here,” he told Red. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his cane off the windowsill and stalked down the hall into the darkness. When the moonlight was no longer sufficient to light the way, he drew Roman’s lighter from his coat pocket and flicked it open, holding the flickering flame out in front of him to catch the glare of any nocturnal creatures’ eyes in the dark.

He followed the sound all the way back past the bar and into the pantry, but there were no verminous creatures nibbling away at the food on the shelves. In fact, none of the food looked like it had been touched since whatever had happened here, which, now that Roman thought about it, was very strange, considering what Ozpin had said about the tendency of nature to creep into places humans have surrendered their hold over.

The scratching started again, long and languid, and Ozpin looked down at the doors set into the floor. The doors that were chained shut. “It’s coming from the cellar. How do you propose we—“

_‘Just fucking let me do it!’_

Ozpin let him take control, and Roman looped the handle of his cane through the shackle of the rusty padlock and _yanked_. The lock broke apart, the chains slid back, and the doors, to Roman’s surprise, slowly creaked open.

They weren’t raccoons. The most horrific creatures Roman had ever seen reached up out of the darkness of the cellar with long, spindly arms that tapered into sets of needlelike claws as long as ice picks. Their twisted, skeletal frames seemed to be made of nothing but shadow and bone, their faces like skulls with the jaws broken open and hanging, leaving their maws unnaturally wide and gaping. Their empty red eyes bored into him with a horrible hunger.

But all of a sudden, Roman wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t anything. He dropped his cane, and then dropped to his knees. Everything felt heavy. He could hardly hold his head up. Even thinking felt like a strenuous effort. But he did think, briefly, that he now understood how Neo must have felt all those years ago in that alley, staring death in the face, and unable to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maria: Hm, should I start with the first journal, or the last one? Ha. What a silly question. I wouldn't want to spoil the ending of the story ~
> 
> [A/N: I made a Cloqwork Orange emblem for those of you who share this strange ship with me :) https://elektricangel.tumblr.com/post/633436500491698176 ]


	4. Through the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank you guys for all your wonderful comments so far! I love and appreciate every single one. I’ll go back and respond to them soon. I’ve just been writing so much that I haven’t had the time I want to take to give thoughtful responses. But your feedback helps fuel me, so thank you again!

Roman had dropped his lighter along with his weapon, and it had clicked shut. So he couldn’t see the creatures anymore—just their glowing red eyes and mouths as they slowly shuffled ever closer in the dark. He was so tired. Perhaps he was already dreaming. He felt like he was in a dream, like everything would carry on as it was supposed to without him having to make any conscious choices or actions. After all, where else could monsters such as these exist but in his own mind? They were creatures of nightmare, and there was no point in fighting against a nightmare. Everything would be fine in the end.

 _‘We’re not…dreaming. If we do nothing…we’ll die.’_ But even Ozpin didn’t sound as dire as his proclamation. Like Little Red had said, he’d died hundreds of times before. What was once more to him?

_‘Even if you’re right… It’s not like I’ve got anything to look forward to in life… Just you.’_

_‘What about…Neo?’_

Roman felt a stir of something. He didn’t care what happened to him, but he did care what happened to her. _‘It’ll be better for her…if I go quick. It could be years…before you’re through with me.’_

_‘Just get up… Please. Run.’_

_‘Make me.’_

_‘I…can’t.’_

“Professor?” Red’s voice drifted down the darkened hallway, and he heard her soft footfalls behind him as she approached. “What are you going to do to those raccoons? I like raccoons…I think.” She sounded like she was caught up in a dream, too—like she was talking in her sleep without really knowing what she was saying. But then the pale glow from her scroll enveloped Roman, and his hand, which he’d hardly realized had been clutching the Lamp protectively, finally fell down to his side like a lead weight. The soft lamplight revealed the monsters in ghastly chiaroscuro, mere inches from capturing him in their grasp. The creatures at the front of the pack were reaching out for Roman with their claws, sharp enough to rend flesh to the bone, and still all he could do was watch as they closed in.

Red gasped, and a blinding flash of silver light washed out everything in Roman’s field of vision. He blinked away spots, and for a moment, he almost felt like he could muster the strength and the will to save himself. But the light withered as quickly as it had bloomed. And the creatures, only having shied back a few feet, responded with hisses that sounded like broken men stealing their last gasps of life. A similar utterance might have escaped Roman’s lips as the sound seemed to sap the last of _his_ life away, and he laid his head down on the floor to await the inevitable.

He heard Red drop to her knees, but when the hissing subsided, she crawled forward and he felt her hands on him as she looped his cane under his arms and heaved. “Come on,” she whimpered, trying to drag him backwards. “We need to get out of here.”

Roman normally would have been annoyed by her presence, but he wasn’t now. He just didn’t understand it. “You don’t even like me,” he mumbled. “Just leave me.”

Her strength gave out and she fell back on her elbows, panting. “I…” She seemed to consider his proposition for a moment. “No, shut up.” She grabbed both ends of his cane again and kept dragging him back with her. “You’re so…heavy,” she huffed.

Normally, that remark would have annoyed Roman, too. But it didn’t. He still didn’t feel much of anything as he watched the creatures slowly start to advance toward them again, just a little bit faster than Red was managing to drag them both back.

“Help,” she cried weakly, soft as a mewling kitten. “Someone…”

Just then, an awful cacophony arose at the end of the hall. It sounded like someone was banging pots and pans together with all the verve of a one-man band. “Urgh... Neo, cut it out,” Qrow moaned miserably. “Augh!” From the sound of it, she’d hit him with a pan. “What the— Fuck, what are those things?”

As sounds arose of the others stirring in the study, Neo ran down the hall to help Roman and Red, with Qrow stumbling after her. But the creatures had almost caught up with them again. One reached out to wrap its long, bony fingers around Roman’s ankle.

“Stop, stop, _stop!_ ” Red’s eyes flashed again, brighter this time, and the creatures _screamed_.

Neo and Qrow dropped to the floor, Red stopped pulling and sat down, and Roman found that his eyelids were too heavy to keep open any longer. So he closed his eyes.

He heard Maria’s voice from somewhere behind them. “What just...? What color are your eyes, girl?” she called out to Red.

“They’re...sssilver,” Red slurred sleepily.

Maria gasped. “You have a family? Friends?”

“What?” Red murmured.

“Don’t think about the Grimm. Think about them. Think about the people who love you. Focus on the thought of them, the way they make you feel. Focus!” Maria cried.

There was a moment of near silence, filled only by the slow shuffling of the Grimm, and the tired, confused muttering of Red’s teammates as they came to see what was going on. And then a light burst so bright, Roman could see it from behind his eyelids. It burned away every shadow from every darkened corner, and suddenly, Roman felt...well, he _felt_ again. He opened his eyes to see the Grimm before him all crumbling to ash.

Red sat beside him blinking in surprise, but more sounds from the cellar had Roman shoving to his feet and hauling the girl up with him by the hood of her cape. “Time to go, kid,” he said, and together they made for the front door, collecting the others along the way.

Once outside in the cold, snowy night, Roman took a deep breath of fresh, icy air to help clear the lingering fog in his mind. But when he looked back over his shoulder, he could see new pinpricks of red light in the darkness of the house as more of those ghastly Grimm crawled up from below and began to draw near. Qrow struggled to push the wagon around the back of Fisticuffs’ bike, a task that normally would have been a trivial test of the Huntsman’s strength. But he finally managed to hitch the ungainly contraption to the powerful motorcycle while the rest of them shivered and watched as the creatures continued their agonizingly slow approach.

“Yang, you good to drive?”

“Yeah.” Qrow’s prompting seemed to break Fisticuffs out of a daze, and she fumbled for her keys. They all looked like they’d been startled out of a deep sleep, and still hadn’t quite got a grasp of the situation. “Let’s leave this place in our dust,” she said.

Qrow braced his arms against the side of the wagon and hung his head between them, recovering his breath from his efforts. As he did so, one of the wagon’s tires hissed and collapsed. “Fuck!” he shouted, and kicked the wagon. He buried his face in his hands, his breaths coming harder and more ragged.

“Qrow!” Maria snapped, effectively gaining his attention. “We saw a spare tire in the toolshed.”

“You’re right.” He shook his head. “I’ll go get it.” He bounded away through the snow and disappeared into the night. Meanwhile, the glowing eyes of the Grimm grew brighter, closer. By the time Qrow returned with the tire and a jack, Roman’s sluggish mind finally churned out an idea.

“Give me my cane.”

Red handed it to him mutely. As Qrow jacked up the wagon to replace the flat tire, Roman sank to one knee in the snow, and raised his weapon. The house was completely dark save for the lights of the Grimm’s eyes, but he remembered it was a straight shot down the hallway to the bar at the back of the house. And all that alcohol would make for one hell of a blaze.

_‘You’re going to burn all that remains of your past life.’_

“I’m not Omen Brunswick.” He flicked off the safety. “And I’m not Ozma.” He lined up his sights. “I’m Roman fucking Torchwick.” He pulled the trigger.

Through the darkness, the fire dust crystal hit its mark. The initial blast ignited all the alcohol in a massive explosion that blew out the back wall and caved in the ceiling, bringing the whole second story crashing down into the first. What was left of the house went up in flames in seconds. The fire devoured everything in its path, more ruthless than any Grimm. Horrible, tortured shrieks arose from the ruins as the monsters burned alive inside, but they didn’t last long. The roar of the fire consumed them.

When the oppressive weight of the inhuman screams faded, Roman rose to his feet. The others steadied themselves and shook off the lingering tethers of the creatures’ insidious influence. Neo walked up beside him to watch the Brunswick family home burn.

“Thanks for sounding the alarm,” said Roman. “How’d you know we were in danger?”

She scribbled something down in her notepad, then tore out the page and handed it to him: _Woke up when Ruby did. Heard her talking to Oz._

Roman raised an eyebrow. “You heard? Or you were listening?”

Neo blinked innocently up at him and smiled. Roman laughed, genuine and easy. It felt good. But he fell quiet when she reached out and took his hand in hers. In that moment, her meaning was clear. _I won’t give up on you, as long as you don’t give up on yourself._

Roman nodded—a wordless promise. Words didn’t mean much to Neo, anyway.

 _‘It seems to me that you still have quite a lot to live for,’_ Ozpin murmured.

 _‘Please,’_ Roman thought, recalling the little incident with Cinder’s lance mere days ago. _‘If one of us is suicidal, it’s you.’_

“Got it!” Qrow cried triumphantly, letting the wagon down off the jack. The new tire held firm. “Everyone on! We’re getting outta this hellhole.”

As Fisticuffs put the pedal to the metal and they sped off into the darkness and the dying storm, Ice Queen was the first to ask, “What happened back there?”

Maria pulled one of the journals from the folds of her cloak and opened it to a page where the writing stopped halfway down with the words, _I’m tired_. “I believe the answer to that is here,” she said. “I was just getting to the end of the Brunswicks’ story when I must have fallen asleep. But here, Bartleby describes a species of Grimm in the area that the locals called the apathy. They’re not strong or ferocious. They drain your will to go on. Bartleby's estate was hemorrhaging money towards the end. He wanted to cut costs on Huntsman protection, but in order to do that, he needed everyone calm…always.” She skimmed down the page with her finger. “He managed to get two away from their pack and trap them in the cellar. But the rest of the pack must have followed the missing pair all the way home. My guess is they made their way beneath the estate through the water tunnels that Bartleby says he sealed up the next morning. His plan worked. No one was angry or sad or scared. No one was anything. And then…no one was left.” She closed the journal and tossed it out into the snow in disgust.

 _‘He believed he could make people better,’_ Roman thought. _‘Now, where have I heard that before?’_

Ozpin said nothing. Qrow had been sitting quietly in the back corner of the wagon avoiding Red’s gaze just as she was avoiding Roman’s. But he finally spoke. “If they’re just another kinda Grimm, how come we’ve never heard of ‘em?” He looked to Roman, or rather, _through_ Roman. “How come _you_ didn’t know about them?”

Ozpin answered the question he was asked. “That troubles me as well,” he said. “Either they’re an exceedingly rare species, or…they’re something new.” The implication was clear: new Grimm didn’t just appear out of nowhere—they were made, and made for a purpose. “All the other Grimm inspire fear, but humanity has triumphed in the face of fear time and again. There is no bravery without fear. Humanity’s greatest weakness isn’t fear. It’s apathy.”

Maria huffed humorlessly. “You sound just like your grandfather.”

Ice Queen spoke up again. “I’m sorry for complaining. I know we need to go Atlas. At least this time…I won’t be alone.”

“I’m sorry, too,” said Fisticuffs over her shoulder. Her dark driving glasses obscured her eyes, but she actually sounded rather introspective, for once. “We can’t quit on our mission. And we can’t quit on each other.”

“That wasn’t us,” said Kitty Cat. “It was those… _things_.”

 _‘Do they even hear themselves? The lot of them have done nothing_ but _complain.’_

 _‘Well,_ you _haven’t exactly accepted your role with quiet dignity and grace,’_ Ozpin reminded him.

 _‘_ I _have a lot more to complain_ about,’ Roman grumbled. ‘ _Come to think of it, though, you didn’t seem as affected by the apathy as the rest of us.’_

_‘You were right about me, Roman. I’ve been battling apathy all my lives. I suppose I’m…accustomed to it. But that doesn’t mean I will ever stop fighting.’_

It still drove Roman rabid that achieving _Ozpin’s_ objectives was _his_ best—and possibly only—chance at getting his life back. But he needed that relentless determination as much as Ozpin did. _‘Then neither will I.’_

“Ms. Calavera?” Red spoke up for the first time since they’d left the farm. “How did you know exactly what to say to make me…to make my eyes do that?”

Maria crossed her hands over the skull atop her cane. “I think it’s time I told you how the Grimm Reaper’s story ends.”

~ * ~

“So you’re…like me.” Red was the first to speak when the old woman had finished her tale of woe.

Apparently, the Grimm Reaper had earned her reputation not on her skill alone, but with the aid of a little trick up her sleeve—or rather, behind her mask. Not even Oz had known that she was one of the Silver-Eyed Warriors that Salem was hunting. That is, until one of Salem’s hunting dogs cut out her eyes. Predictably, Oz felt that her fate was somehow his fault, that he could have protected her if only he’d known. But Roman figured her fate was of her own making. She hadn’t trusted anyone. She’d worked alone. And when the moment finally came when the great Huntress had needed help, she’d nearly died alone.

“I was,” Maria replied. “But now, I’m just an old woman with a story. I’m no hero,” she said, glancing at Qrow. “I’m a disappointment.”

“How can you say that?” Kitty Cat objected. “What was done to you wasn’t your fault.”

“Child, a Huntress is supposed to protect others to the bitter end. But after I lost my eyes, I only ever looked after myself. Even after my surgery, I was too afraid to fight. But now…” She sighed. “I’m too old to be afraid of much of anything anymore. Of course, now it’s too late.”

“Maybe there’s still something you can do,” said Red. “Teach me to use my powers the way you did.”

“ _No!_ ” Qrow shouted, startling everyone. “You don’t _need_ them, Ruby! I–I won’t let you—“

Red covered his hand with hers, silencing him more effectively than a slap to the face. “You don’t make decisions for me…Uncle Qrow.”

“I’ll teach you,” said Maria. “It’s more dangerous having silver eyes and _not_ knowing how to use them.”

Qrow looked to Oz helplessly, practically begging him to stop Little Red from doing what she’d already set her mind to. As though anyone could do _that_. “She’s right, Qrow,” he said solemnly. “Ms. Rose is already a target. Not knowing how to use her gift only deprives her of a powerful weapon in her arsenal. One that likely saved all our lives tonight.”

The broken look of betrayal Qrow gave him felt like knives in his heart, but Red recaptured Qrow’s attention with a simple squeeze of his hand. “I know you’re scared,” she said. “I’m scared, too. But I might be able to help stop what happened at Beacon from happening anywhere else. I want to protect people. My friends. My family.” She and Qrow shared a long look. “Everyone I can.”

“To the bitter end?” Qrow uttered, echoing Maria’s words.

Red mustered a small smile. “I prefer happy endings.”

When it was clear that Red and Qrow had nothing left to say, Ozpin cleared his throat and addressed Maria. “You should know that the same person who hunted you is hunting us. Knowing that, do you still wish to stay and serve as Ms. Rose’s mentor?”

Maria’s withered hands tightened around her cane. “I’m tired of running,” she said. “It’s high time I took a stand.”

Ozpin nodded. “In that case, there is more you need to know. Allow me to start by introducing myself properly. My name is Ozpin. But you used to call me Ozzy.”

~ * ~

The dawn was beginning to break by the time Oz had caught Maria up on the basics of their bizarre circumstances. She seemed to be taking it all surprisingly well. She had already moved beyond the _‘you must be out of your mind’_ expression to the _‘you probably can’t_ all _be crazy’_ one. If she really did stick with them long enough, she’d learn firsthand just how dangerously real Ozpin’s fairytales were.

Red got a call from Blondie just as they crested another hill and the city of Argus appeared sprawling along the coastline below, its twinkling lights beginning to fade with the stars in the dawn. Apparently, the trio had made it to the city safely, and Blondie’s older sister was putting them up at her place. Roman wasn’t enthused at the prospect of encountering more of Blondie’s bloodline, but the promise of a hot meal and a real bed would be worth it. How his standards had fallen since he’d thrown in his lot with the good guys.

Fisticuffs followed Blondie’s directions to a quaint brick townhouse near the city center, and parked her bike out front. The rest of them piled out of the wagon, stiff and unsteady on their feet from the less than luxurious ride, and shivering in the crisp morning air. They weren’t even in Atlas yet and it was already as cold as Ice Queen’s Atlesian blood. Which would explain why she was the only one who didn’t seem to mind the temperature. 

Red only had to knock once before Blondie opened the door. “I’m so glad you guys made it here alright!” he exclaimed. But upon taking in their bedraggled state, as well as the new member of their party, he asked, somewhat less confidently, “What happened?” 

Roman pushed past both kids into the house. “I fucking hate farms,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~ Meanwhile, in Argus ~
> 
> Ren: Your home cooking is delicious, Mrs. Cotta-Arc.
> 
> Nora, with her mouth full: Yeah, I guess the cooking gene must’ve skipped Jaune. 
> 
> Jaune: Very funny. Thanks for taking us in, big Sis. This is really nice.
> 
> ~ Back at Brunswick Farms ~ 
> 
> Blake: Am I stress hallucinating, or is my homicidal ex-boyfriend stalking me?
> 
> Yang: Huh. I don’t really feel like punching stuff today. Who am I??
> 
> Weiss: I wonder if Torchwick knows someone who who’ll kidnap me again so I don’t have to go back to Atlas…
> 
> Neo, thinking: Why does no one ever listen to me? Oh. Right.
> 
> Qrow, singing drunkenly: 99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles of beer— Wait, how’d I get down to 2 already?
> 
> Ozpin: Do I even like people?
> 
> Ruby: I’ve made peace with death, but I do have these cool laser eyes, so I’m at least gonna go out with a rave. *SEW strobing*
> 
> Roman: Kill it!!! Kill it with fire!!! *bang!* *BOOM!* *crash!* *death shrieks*


	5. Reunion, Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eheh you guys can't hate me for this more than Roman does, but triangles do have 3 sides...
> 
> Also, I think it's already safe to say I probably won't be using much if anything from V8, so I'm just not going to worry about it anymore.

While the kids hugged each other and expressed their mutual gratitude that they were all okay, ad nauseam, Roman and Neo took a look around the house. It was the picture of domestic bliss—a cozy living room arranged around a fireplace and lined with bookshelves and a games cabinet, a kitchen stocked with fresh fruits and vegetables in little baskets with two chairs and a baby’s highchair huddled around the kitchen table, a larger, wood-paneled dining room for entertaining company, the walls lined with family photos featuring two smiling women and a gormless toddler.

“Where are our hosts?” Roman asked, returning to the living room where the others were, somehow, _still_ hugging. They had hardly been separated a day, but an outside observer could be forgiven for thinking it had been years since they’d last seen each other.

“I think they’re still asleep,” said Blondie, letting go of an unnervingly warm and cuddly Ice Queen. “It’s early. We’ve been waiting up for you guys.” He gestured to the blankets and pillows strewn across the furniture in the living room.

“Then we’re probably all pretty tired,” said Red. She was eyeing Qrow, who was swaying slightly on his feet—although lack of sleep likely had little to do with it. “How about we try to get a few hours’ sleep, and we can talk in the morning?”

Fisticuffs nodded her agreement. “It’s been kind of a crazy trip.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ice Queen huffed.

“Yeah, of course,” Blondie agreed. “We’ve got extra blankets down here, and there’s a guest room upstairs at the end of the hall—“

“We’ll take it,” Roman said, making for the stairs.

Maria clicked her tongue and crossed her arms atop her cane. “Whatever happened to age before beauty?”

Roman’s grip tightened around the bannister. “Don’t test me, lady. Oz is older than all of you put together, and dealing with him ages me by the day.”

The shutters on Maria’s goggles blinked once, slowly. “Well, I sleep better in a good armchair, anyway,” she said, waving her hand permissively. “Polar opposites, those two,” she muttered under her breath as she walked away to lay claim to the overstuffed recliner in the corner. “I suppose it _would_ be exhausting.”

Roman continued up the stairs, and to his mild surprise, both Neo and Qrow made to follow him. The two of them stopped at the bottom step, staring at each other, neither one making way to let the other past. Qrow carded his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. “When you said ‘we’…” he prompted hesitantly.

Roman opened his mouth to reply, but as he looked back and forth between the two of them, no answer came. He hadn’t really been thinking when he’d spoken, so even he didn’t exactly know who he’d been referring to. But it was then that Qrow’s eyes finally lost focus, and he barely put a hand out in time to slide down the wall rather than keel right over on the spot. Roman caught him instinctively, and Qrow slumped against him, nearly dead weight.

Roman blew out a breath that ruffled his bangs. “Sorry, Neo,” he said, then hefted Qrow up and threw the other man over his shoulder like a sack of dust.

Qrow groaned in half-conscious confusion. “Who said you could pick me up outside the bedroom?” he mumbled dreamily.

“Ack, gross!” Little Red, who’d dashed over to see if Qrow was okay, abruptly turned on her heel and marched away with her hands over her ears. Evidently, she’d decided Qrow was well enough to leave him in Roman’s hands.

Roman hiked Qrow’s weight higher up his shoulder and started trudging back up the stairs. “You want me to gag you again, too?” he threatened the mouthy Huntsman.

“T.M.I., Torchwick!” Fisticuffs shouted after him as Red whined in distress.

“Is Qrow drunk again?” he heard Sparky murmur once she thought they were out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Fisticuffs sighed. “Didn’t take long.”

“But it’s not his fault,” Red defended him weakly. Even she sounded doubtful that he was entirely a victim of circumstance.

Roman heard no more of their conversation after that, finding refuge in the blissful quiet and solitude of the modest spare bedroom. Even with the apathy burned to ash and miles behind him, he still felt drained. Roman had achieved much in life through sheer grit and tenacity. He counted those qualities among his greatest strengths. But he couldn’t quite shake the doubts that had settled in him somewhere alongside Ozpin’s soul, the common-sense notion that what they were trying to accomplish was so far outside their reach that the very act of striving for it was an exercise in futility, or insanity, or both. At least Ozpin actually believed in his cause. He could draw strength and solace from his faith in humanity—however fragile, it never seemed to break. Roman had no such faith.

He tossed Qrow down onto one side of the double bed, then let himself fall back onto the other side. Qrow started snoring softly almost as soon as he hit the sheets. The early morning light was already beginning to seep in under the heavy drapes, and Roman knew this little reprieve would be all too brief. Still, he would make the most of it. He closed his eyes, and finally surrendered to sleep.

~ * ~

 _Roman was having a_ very _good dream. It was warm, and dark, and there were hands running over his bare skin, lips pressing at his pulse beneath his jaw. He tilted his head back to give his partner better access, and was rewarded with a graze of teeth and a hot swipe of tongue. It was good, but Roman always wanted more than he was given, so he fisted his hands in silky hair and pulled up. Their lips collided, and they kissed deeply, taking their time to explore each other inside and out. Roman didn’t know how long they’d been at this, moving in perfect tandem, completely intertwined. But it was long enough for him to be feeling unusually pliant, lost in his own pleasure and willing to give anything in return._

_“Anything?”_

_Roman swallowed. “What do you want?” He didn’t think it odd that his partner knew his thoughts without him having to speak them. In fact, it seemed only natural, when two people were this close._

_“Nothing I don’t already have,” his partner murmured in his ear, sending pleasant shivers all the way down Roman’s spine. The next thing he knew, he was being pinned down by lithe, unyielding fingers closing around his wrists, and part of him suddenly wanted to push the other person away, but another part of him yearned to pull his partner closer, as close as two people could be, and even closer still. “You’re mine.” Any desire he might have had to resist died as he stared up into liquid gold eyes that seemed to see into his very core. “Body and soul.”_

_Roman gasped and shuddered so violently he thought he might just fall apart. “Ozpin!”_

He jolted awake to find a pair of crimson eyes, rather than gold, watching him from the other side of the bed. “You were saying Oz’s name in your sleep,” Qrow informed him. “Well, moaning it, more like.”

“Fuck!” Roman pulled a pillow over his head as he fought down the heat in his face, and forced his quickened breathing under control. “Where the _hell_ did that come from?!” he snarled into the downy darkness.

Ozpin sounded nearly as flustered as Roman felt when he finally spoke. _‘It’s not…unusual for the subconscious to interpret our spiritual union as a more familiar, er…physical union.’_

Roman screamed into the pillow. 

_‘I think you might be overreacting just a little—‘_

“I hate you so fucking much,” Roman panted in between deep gulps of air to stop himself from screaming more.

 _‘Well, it's not like_ that's _ever been an issue for you in the past.’_

“Oh, fuck you!”

Ozpin sighed. _’I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.’_ There was a painful stretch of silence. _‘I would never…_ consciously _say those things to a host, not even you.’_

 _‘What, the truth?’_ thought Roman, darkly.

_‘I don’t sugarcoat the truth. But I don’t weaponize it, either. I haven’t your taste for cruelty.’_

_‘Maybe you will, when it’s all over.’_

_‘Neither of us is looking forward to that eventuality,’_ Ozpin said with infuriating empathy. _‘But there is a certain serenity in surrender. Entertaining such notions isn’t weakness. It’s simple human nature. I know the depth of your determination. The apathy may have robbed you of it for a time, but I doubt there’s any force in this world that could do so again. Myself included.’_

Roman dug his fingers like claws into the pillow. _‘Spare me the gods damned psychoanalysis, Oz. In fact, let’s not talk about this at all,_ ever _again.’_ He pulled the pillow away from his face and threw it hard at Qrow, who had started chuckling quietly.

Qrow let the pillow hit him in the face, then fall down onto the bed. “Hey, I don’t blame ya. I’ve been there. Hell, my first couple years at Beacon—“

“I don’t want to hear any more about your pathetic pining for your professor,” Roman snapped. “In fact, I don’t even want to hear his name again for the rest of the day.”

Qrow propped himself up on his own pillow with a sigh. “Y’know, things could be worse for you. He has every reason not to, but he actually tries to do right by you.” The underlying hint of bitterness in Qrow’s tone brought back to mind his words from Brunswick Farms: _“He seems to care an awful lot about_ you _.”_

“My gods, you were serious,” said Roman in disbelief. “You really are jealous of me, aren’t you?”

Qrow groaned softly and scrubbed a hand down his face. Now that Roman was paying attention, the man looked wretched, dark smudges under his eyes and a pained pinch to the corners of his mouth. He was probably horribly hungover after his dalliance with sobriety, no matter how brief. “Would I want to switch places with you? Probably not,” he said. “But knowing the whole time I was with him that he had this…star-crossed soulmate out there, and then finally knowing that it wasn’t me…that it was _you_ of all people… I mean, we've been together for two _decades_ , and you’ve only been with him for two months, and you already know him better than I ever will. He’s like this great…library, and I know that I could spend my whole life reading, and still have a lot of books left unread by the end.”

He looked to Roman, desperate for understanding, because Roman was the only one who could understand. And he _did_ understand. Too well. Ozpin’s multitudes were frightening—more than any one person could bear. Roman was terrified of getting lost in the library.

“I’m adding ‘soulmate’ to the list of words I don’t want to hear again today, or _ever_ ,” he said. “I can’t deal with any of this shit this morning.”

Qrow barked a broken, sympathetic laugh. “Yeah, you and me both.” He slipped his flask from his pocket and offered it to Roman. When Roman declined, he shrugged, and took a swig himself—only to spray it all across the sheets in surprise. “What the…?” he muttered, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. _“Water?”_

Roman rolled his eyes at Qrow’s melodramatic look of betrayal. There _was_ one thing he had to deal with this morning, since Oz’s coddling clearly hadn’t been effective. It was actually a relief to shift the focus away from himself and Oz, and onto Qrow instead. “Yes, I poured your whiskey down the drain. But since I am _clearly_ in no position to babysit you, you have a choice to make, and you have to make it now. Your Semblance makes you unpredictable enough already. You have to be in a stable place when I'm not. Whether that’s on or off the wagon, I really don’t care. But as long as we’re relying on you as a member of this team, you can’t keep slipping up. So what’s it gonna be? Are you going to quit drinking, or aren’t you?”

Qrow grit his teeth, a flush of anger rising in his cheeks. “I’m trying.”

“Not good enough,” said Roman, sitting up fully so he could look down at Qrow. “If you don’t think you can do it, then don’t do it. You’re a high-functioning alcoholic. You’ll get by just fine as you were.”

 _'You don't have to be quite so harsh with him,'_ Oz objected.

_'We tried it your way. Now we're doing it mine.'_

Qrow looked away, his anger turning inward. “I promised Ruby…”

“How much does that promise mean to you?”

Qrow winced like Roman had just slashed him with a knife. “Apparently not much, since I already broke it. But I can’t… I can’t keep disappointing her.” He drew his knees up and hung his head between them, fisting his fingers in his hair. 

“That’s what you’re worried about?” asked Roman incredulously. “You could throw that sunny, scythe-swinging psycho to a pack of starving beowolves and she’d still think you were Dad of the Year.” Qrow clearly wasn’t listening to him, so Roman gripped the other man’s chin and forced it up to hold his gaze. “You can’t possibly be a worse parent than I was, and Neo still fucking loves me.”

Qrow’s brow furrowed in confusion, the water welling in his eyes not quite spilling over into tears. “But you’re her brother, not…”

“I had to be both. And I mostly did a shit job of it. She could’ve died any day on my watch. Hell, I accidentally fed her drugs once. Her eyes turned weird colors, and she made some _very_ disturbing illusions. But the point is, she forgave me. Because we're family.”

The look of confusion on Qrow's face only etched itself deeper. “How do you accidentally drug your sister?”

“There was a mix-up with the sugar and the—“ Roman shook his head. He was getting distracted. “This isn’t about me. This is about you. Quit or don’t. Make your choice.”

Qrow looked down at his flask, turning it over slowly in his hands. Then he offered it to Roman again, but this time, with finality. “Hold onto this for me, would ya? It’s got sentimental value.”

Roman tried not to sneer in distaste as he took the beat-up old thing and tucked it into his coat pocket. “It certainly doesn’t have any _actual_ value.”

When he looked up again, Qrow was right there, barely leaving room for breath between them. “Thanks,” the Huntsman murmured before their lips met.

Roman was, reluctantly, still rather hot and bothered from his dream, and kissing Qrow was like swallowing a shot of hard liquor, with the rise it got out of him and Oz both. His head swam, and he wanted to push Qrow down into the mattress and drink his fill. But he was determined not to act on the impulse out of sheer spite, refusing to give Oz the satisfaction, even though it meant denying his own. So after an indulgent moment or two, he broke the kiss. “From now on,” he whispered against Qrow’s lips, “if I taste whiskey on your tongue, I’ll cut it out.”

On that note, he left Qrow spluttering indignantly in bed, and went to go take a cold shower.

But even the simplest things didn't exactly pan out as planned these days. He lasted less than a minute under the freezing spray, Oz whining like a baby about it the entire time, before, all of a sudden, he felt like needles of ice were stabbing at his lungs from the inside, and he started gasping for air like he was suffocating. Ozpin seized control before Roman could hyperventilate and pass out, twisting the faucet all the way in the other direction until the water was coming down near-scalding, but it melted away the ice at his core, and he could finally breathe again.

Oz steadied himself with a hand against the tiles, panting hard. “I told you…I can’t stand cold water.”

 _‘You didn’t say you’d have a fucking fit about it! What the hell was that?’_ Roman demanded, trying his best not to let on just how rattled he still was from the experience, even though Oz could no doubt feel it for himself. Roman had felt like he was dying. Again.

Oz rested his forehead against the steam-damp tiles and let the hot water wash over him, relaxing muscles that had seized up in his panic. “Do you know how the Warrior King died? It wasn’t in battle.”

After a moment's thought, Roman answered. _‘He went out riding in winter._ _His horse fell through a frozen lake. He drowned under the ice.’_

“You know your history.”

_‘I really don’t.’_

“Ah,” Ozpin sighed. “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined your morning.” Sudsy water was running down his face and stinging his eyes, so he tilted his head back under the water’s spray and ran his fingers through his hair, coaxing out the remainder of the shampoo.

Roman would have thought that being absolutely convinced that he was drowning for a moment would be just as effective as a cold shower in cooling his blood. But unfortunately, any lasting effects were negated by what Ozpin was doing. The touches were innocent enough, but not quite being able to predict them only made Roman more aware of them, and how good they felt. And just like that, cloying reveries of his dream returned to fog his mind—and his judgement. Roman groaned. _‘You can’t even do that right.’_

Ozpin stilled. If he weren’t already flushed from the hot water, Roman had a feeling that would’ve done the trick. “I…I didn’t mean to…” He pulled his hands away. “It’s easy to forget sometimes, that…”

_‘That I’m not yours yet?’_

“There’s no need to get hostile again.”

_‘Is “hostile” the reading you’re getting from me right now?’_

“…No.” The heavy steam made him breathless, and the enveloping caress of the hot water made his movements languid as he reached for the soap to continue with his ministrations. It was easy for Roman to imagine that the hands moving over his skin weren’t his own when he wasn’t the one in control. It was easy to imagine that Ozpin was right there with him, because he was. It was all so easy. “I thought you were dead set on making our relations as unpleasant as possible, but they don’t have to be.”

Oz was right—it didn’t much matter that he happened to hate the late headmaster for ruining his life. That hadn’t stopped him with Cinder, and it hadn’t stopped him with Qrow. Perhaps Roman _did_ need psychoanalysis. But thinking about any of this was the opposite of what he wanted to do at the moment. _‘Just finish what you started.’_

Ozpin’s touches skimmed across his chest, his stomach, lower. They both gasped in unison. There was nothing left to say to each other after that.

~ * ~

_‘The water’s going to go cold.’_

_“Fuck.”_ Roman had been a shivering wreck on the floor of the shower for a good few minutes, but with effort, he finally pulled himself together enough to reach up and turn off the water. He used his grip on the faucet to rise, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet and step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around himself to ward off some of the chill. Leaning against the sink, he set to brushing his teeth without another word. He found himself avoiding his own gaze in the mirror.

He could feel Oz preparing to say… _something_ , but whatever it was, he didn’t want to hear it. “I’m adding all of that to the list of things I don’t want to talk about today.” He spat in the sink to punctuate his point.

 _‘It’s getting to be a long list,’_ said Ozpin, simply.

A cloud of steam swirled in his wake when he left the bathroom. “All yours,” he told Qrow.

The Huntsman’s eyes roved unabashedly over Roman’s bare torso as they passed each other, and Roman smiled to himself. At least he’d have Qrow to take his mind off things later. Until then, he anticipated having plenty of work to do to keep himself otherwise preoccupied. He got dressed again in silence, then made his way downstairs without waiting for the hungover Huntsman to get his own act together enough to join him.

Roman was relieved to find that Blondie’s big sis was just as quaint and charming and normal as her home. She and her wife and son were a perfectly dull little family leading sensible little lives of realistic little ambitions, without so much as a whisper of slaying monsters or saving the world. They welcomed everyone with breakfast, shared embarrassing childhood stories about Blondie with his friends, and expressed their admiration for all those who chose to become Huntsmen and Huntresses—as well as their vague doubts about the legality of kids who hadn’t yet achieved that status assisting those who had.

Qrow did his best to reassure them while tenderly nursing his fourth cup of black coffee. “Trust us, we’re professors. Think of it as an extended training mission.”

The Huntsman didn’t exactly exude composed, professional authority in his current state, but thankfully, Neo chose that moment to emerge from the kitchen carrying a plate stacked high with fresh-baked snickerdoodles. To everyone’s surprise, she set it down in front of Blondie and Little Red. There was a note stuck into the top of the pile of cookies with a toothpick. It read, _Thanks for saving my dummy brother._

Roman sighed. He really couldn’t argue on any count. It was bad enough that he’d nearly gotten himself killed—again—and had no one to blame for it but himself this time. But to owe his life twice over, first to Blondie and now to Little Red, was excruciatingly embarrassing. He highly doubted either of them was savvy enough to try to leverage that debt, but the very fact of its existence rankled. Still, he knew he’d really frightened Neo lately, so he didn’t begrudge her small show of gratitude, even if Roman refused to make one himself—at least until circumstances arose wherein he could strike his debts from the books completely.

“Your friend wanted to surprise you,” said Blondie’s sister, beaming. Neo must’ve charmed her with the sweet little girl act, and by the looks of it, she’d bought it hook, line and sinker.

“You really made these for us?” Red asked with wide, shining eyes, knowing firsthand how territorial Neo was of her baking. But she misunderstood the gesture, too. It wasn’t kindness—it was courtesy. Neo and Roman had long lived by the creed common among criminals that one turn, good or ill, deserved another in kind. Reciprocity and retribution, as Ozpin had articulated it. Personal feelings, whether of friendship or animosity, didn’t factor into the calculation. Exchanges of tokens and favors, insults and injuries, were the stitches in the social fabric of the underworld that kept it from tearing itself apart. All of which was to say, Neo didn’t have to like Red in the slightest to feel compelled to bake her cookies.

Neo gave a curt nod, obviously none too pleased with the whole thing. But she loved Roman more than she hated anyone, and so she was willing to sacrifice her pride—and Roman’s—in the process of showing it.

Blondie cautiously plucked one of the cookies off the plate and held it up to the light. “She wouldn’t poison us, would she?” he muttered to Little Red. But he found, to his horror, that she was already eating two at a time, and showing no signs of slowing. He panicked and shoved his in his mouth before Red somehow managed to inhale that one, too.

“Theshe are delishush,” Red mumbled with her mouth full. Then she finally seemed to realize that her friends were all watching her with varying degrees of expectancy, because she swallowed and pushed the plate a little farther out onto the table. “There’s plenty for everyone,” she said sheepishly.

But Neo swung her umbrella up across her shoulders where she stood behind Red and Blondie, the steel tip of her sword subtly extended, and swept her eyes around the table, daring the other kids to try to take Red up on her offer. The baby burbled and reached out from his highchair, but one look from Neo had him whining and drawing back, suddenly on the verge of tears.

Sparky laughed nervously. “Nah, you go ahead, you two. We’re good.”

Red shrugged and pulled the plate back to keep stuffing her face, and Blondie was hard-pressed to claim just a few cookies for himself before there were only crumbs left.

“Well, I need to get to work,” said the Mrs., standing. She pinched the baby’s cheeks and pressed a kiss to his forehead, which cheered him right back up. “And it’s time for _someone_ to head to daycare,” she cooed.

Blondie’s sister joined her wife and scooped their baby up in her arms. “That’s my job,” she said. “You all are welcome to stay with us as long as you need.”

“If all goes according to plan, we’ll be long gone before the day’s through,” said Roman.

“Oh, alright, if you absolutely must whisk my baby brother away again so soon,” she sighed. “But you just call and let me know if I should make extra casserole for dinner, after all, Jauney.”

Blondie blushed and ducked his head to avoid his sister’s teasing grin. “Yeah, okay, Saph. Love you. You can go now.”

His sister ruffled his already hopeless hair on her way out, and her wife shot him a sympathetic smile before she, too was gone, leaving them all alone in the house for the first time. The mood turned somber in minutes, like the whole happy family charade had been just that. A hollow mimicry of the real thing.

Blondie broke the silence. “I told Saph we just got separated,” he said. “But what really happened to you guys?”

Before any of the others could answer, Red pushed back her chair and stood. She looked to Fisticuffs, then to Roman, then down at the table. “I’ll explain everything from the beginning.”

~ * ~

“That…sounds awful,” said Moody, once Red had finished speaking, and enough time had passed for her words to sink in. The apathy may be unique among Grimm, but their dangerous and powerful effect was not unlike his Semblance.

“And we have the Lamp to blame?” Ice Queen demanded, arms crossed in a way that came off more defensive than angry. After escaping the machinations of her family, she likely hadn’t expected similar withholdings from her friends.

“No,” said Qrow. “The apathy were there long before we were. It was just…bad luck.” He dropped his gaze down into his coffee, seeking some solace in the bitter black depths.

“Just to make sure we’re all on the same page now,” Blondie began, “you’re telling us we now have _five_ disaster magnets in our group.” He ticked them off on his fingers one by one. “The Lamp attracts Grimm. Qrow’s Semblance brings misfortune. Ruby’s being hunted by Salem’s assassins because of her eyes. Ozpin is _always_ in Salem’s sights. And Torchwick is at the top of the Most Wanted List in two kingdoms. Does that pretty much cover it all? Or is there anything else we should know about?” he asked, voice strained.

Ozpin surprised them all, even Roman, by standing and gesturing for Red to retake her seat, which she dropped back down into like a marionette with its strings cut. Evidently, even she couldn’t keep up her can-do attitude in the face of such overwhelming odds that seemed to dictate clearly what they couldn’t do. “Mr. Arc is right,” he said. “This task has become too dangerous for all of you. You should stay here in Argus. Enjoy this time together with friends and family. You have earned it. I will take the Lamp the rest of the way to Atlas. Once there, I will have the academy’s resources at my disposal—everything I need.”

Silence settled over them all as they contemplated Ozpin’s proposal, and the risks that only seemed to grow graver with each step of their journey. “Everything except me,” said Red softly. “You might need me.”

“Ruby—“ Oz tried to counter, but she cut him off.  
  
“Can you be sure you won’t? And if you do, and I’m not there, then can _you_ stop her from destroying everything we’ve worked for? Everything our friends have fought—and _died_ for? Everything _you’ve_ fought and died for?”

Ozpin sighed. He had spent lifetimes railing against the cruelty of the absent gods, that they had burdened him with a seemingly insurmountable task, and not the means of accomplishing it. But it was only now that he had come to truly fathom the depths of that cruelty, for they had burdened others instead, some of them children, with such means. “I don’t have your…gift, Ruby. But I can’t ask you to—“

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m coming with you, Professor. We’re not at Beacon anymore, so you can’t stick me in detention even if you wanted to.”

Oz pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, where lines of stress were starting to ache. “Really, I—“  
  
“If Ruby’s going, then I’m going, too,” said Fisticuffs, laying her metal arm down on the table with firm finality. She turned to Little Red. “The last time I let you out of my sight, you nearly got yourself killed by a psychotic scorpion, and then you went and got involved with the mafia.” She waved her other hand at him and Neo. “Clearly, I can’t leave you unsupervised.” She and Red shared a small, tentative smile.

“We’re still a team,” Ice Queen huffed. “I’m not about to abandon my teammates if I have anything to say about it.” Kitty Cat flinched and glanced away, and Ice Queen backtracked. “Blake, I didn’t mean—“

Kitty Cat shook her head. “No, you’re right,” she said firmly. “Neither will I. Not this time.”

Blondie looked to Sparky and Moody, who nodded their agreement. He rubbed the back of his neck, an anxious habit of his. “Like I said, I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page. Of course we’ll see the mission through to the end.” His voice lowered to a murmur. “It’s what Pyrrha would do.”

“Things would go a lot smoother for you all without me,” said Qrow, still staring into his coffee. “I’m a liability to everyone who gets too close.”

“Uncle Qrow…” said Fisticuffs, reaching out to touch his arm.

He looked down at her metal hand on his shoulder and grit his teeth. “But I’m still a Huntsman,” he said. “And as long as I can help protect you kids, I will.” He lifted his eyes to meet Ozpin’s. “You’ve always believed I could do more good than harm. If you still believe that, then…that’s what I want to do.”

“It's not a belief, Qrow,” said Ozpin. “It's something I know to be true.”

Qrow flashed a grin that was almost fully genuine. “Then good luck getting rid of me.”

“I’m overdue for an eye appointment in Atlas.” Everyone looked to Maria in surprise when she spoke. She crossed her arms with a huff. “You all forgot about me, didn’t you? Well, anyway, I could use a ride.”

Ozpin could see that arguing would be futile. Remnant was their world, after all, not his. If they were determined to fight for it, who was he to stand in their way? He chuckled quietly. “I suppose I can’t tell any of you what to do anymore.”

Since they’d all decided to stick together, they cleared away breakfast and moved to the living room to discuss their means of actually getting to Atlas. Oz took it upon himself to stay and load the dishwasher before joining them, so he noticed from the kitchen doorway that Fisticuffs held Little Red back as their friends left the dining room. “I get why you didn’t want to tell us about the Lamp before,” she said. “But you know you can tell me anything. We don’t keep secrets from each other…right, Sis?”

Red hesitated just a moment before she hugged Fisticuffs tightly and said, “Right.” But over the other girl’s shoulder, she was watching Qrow while he walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman: Why do I feel the sudden urge to go out and buy a jacket?
> 
> ~ Roman did in fact manage to get his coat mended back in Mistral ~ 
> 
> Tailor: And how did you say you got this big...bloody...hole...clean through your coat?
> 
> Roman: *laughs* Exes, am I right?


	6. Reunion, Pt. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually made Cloqwork Orange emblems, if anyone wants one :D  
> https://www.etsy.com/shop/CelestialClockShop

“We could just try asking,” Red suggested, with all the innocence of her twelve years, or however long she’d been bumbling obliviously through life on Remnant.

“So, we sort of already tried that,” said Blondie. “It didn’t go...super great.”

“They pretty much slammed the door in our faces,” Moody elaborated.

“Well,” said Kitty Cat, “you didn’t have the missing heiress to the Schnee Dust Company. Or Atlas’ Most Wanted.”

Neo rolled her eyes and rested her hands on her hips, and Ice Queen shot Kitty a dirty look. “Ex-heiress, actually.”

Fisticuffs grinned. “Still, if there’s a chance for reward money, I say we go for it.”

Ice Queen turned up her nose in a huff. “Branwens.”

Qrow raised his fifth cup of black coffee to that. He took a long sip, then sighed. “Even that wouldn’t work, though. Sure, they’d take Weiss back, and they’d take Torchwick if he sets foot on their base. But they might not be inclined to take him alive. And there’s no way the rest of us are getting a lift without Atlesian citizenship. The kingdom’s locked down tight. They’re only taking their own.”

“I may also be on the no-fly list at this particular base,” Maria added sheepishly. She was quick to elaborate when the others looked to her with varying degrees of surprise and suspicion. “Just a minor misunderstanding over some contraband items. Nothing to warrant the personal vendetta the commanding officer now seems to have against me. Although, it has been a few years... Maybe she’s dead!” Maria said, hopefully.

There was a moment of silence as they all took that one in. Blondie was the first to break it. “If we can’t convince the military to take us, then...I might have an idea,” he said. The boy was suddenly twitchy, and he shrank self-consciously under the group’s gaze. “I’m not saying it’s a _great_ idea...”

“Let’s hear it,” said Red, smiling encouragingly.

He rubbed the back of his neck, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes. “Well, with only Atlesian military airships cleared to leave for Solitas, we could...steal one.”

There was an even longer stretch of silence. Roman couldn’t hold back anymore. He finally broke down and burst out laughing. "Steal an Atlesian airship," he wheezed. "Fuck, that's a good one."

“Oh come on, _you_ did it!” Blondie yapped at him defensively.

Roman wiped a tear from his eye and sighed. “Kid, I was _trying_ to start an international incident. And I succeeded.” Neo elbowed him pointedly in the ribs. He tipped his hat to her in acknowledgement. “ _We_ succeeded,” he corrected himself. “Credit where credit’s due.” Neo smiled. “Honestly, you kids would make terrible criminals.”

“It’s your fault we have to deal with this situation in the first place,” Blondie groused. “I don’t suppose you have a better idea.”

“Of course I do,” said Roman.

“How come you didn’t say so before?” asked Red.

“I wanted to hear what you kids came up with first. I needed a good laugh today.” He took a step back to give Neo the spotlight. “How about a demonstration for the class?” he prompted. “Show ‘em your Atlesian Manta.”

Neo nodded and closed her eyes in concentration, her fingers flexing at her sides. In the center of the room, she produced a perfect quarter-scale replica of the military aircraft, rotating weightlessly in midair. Neo was always working to expand her repertoire, but she’d had this one perfected awhile ago—it was the same illusion she’d used to make it up to Roman on General Ironwood’s command ship.

“Neo can project this illusion matrix around any airship roughly the same size as the Manta. The only thing we need from the military is their landing codes, and Neo could steal those in her sleep.”

Neo let her Manta matrix shimmer away and instead surrounded herself in an illusory Atlesian military officer’s uniform. She clicked her heels and gave Roman a sharp salute and a sharper smile.

Red looked around at her equally awestruck friends. “Does she seem, like, way OP to anyone else?”

Fisticuffs chuckled and punched her sister gently in the arm. “You’re one to talk, laser-eyes.”

Red blushed and glanced down at the floor. “They’re not _lasers_ , they’re more like…”

“Floodlights,” Maria supplied. “Big, bright, Grimm-frying floodlights.”

Red eyed her new mentor skeptically. “Yeah…that.”

“So we still need to get our hands on an airship,” said Blondie, determined to be unimpressed.

“Why don’t we just buy one?” Ice Queen suggested.

Roman scoffed. “And the Schnee’s solution is to buy a private airship for a single trip. I might’ve guessed.”

She crossed her arms, refusing to be ashamed of herself. “Well, you can afford it, can’t you? Especially after stealing all that dust from the company.”

“Of course I can afford it,” Roman sneered. “But my money’s almost as bloody as your daddy’s, sweetheart. If you’re looking for a way to keep a clear conscience in all of this, you'd better keep looking.”

Ice Queen’s pale complexion turned burning red and she advanced a step toward him with her hand hovering at the hilt of her sword, but Kitty Cat held her back. “Don’t let him get to you,” she advised her friend. “He’s not worth it.”

“What about Professor Ozpin? Isn’t he, like, super rich?” Sparky asked. She rubbed her fingers together. “Our tuition ain’t cheap.”

“You weren’t even paying full price,” Ice Queen muttered. “You should have seen _my_ tuition bill.”

_‘I do hope they know that tuition doesn’t all go directly to me. There are a lot of expenses associated with running a Huntsman academy.’_

“Yeah, Oz is loaded,” said Roman. “Funny thing, though. They tend to freeze your bank accounts when you die.”

Qrow frowned. “Wait, then how has Oz been paying my retainer?”

Roman smirked. “How do you think?”

Qrow gave a scandalized gasp. “You mean I’ve been on the mafia’s payroll this whole time?!”

“And I’ve found your services to be more than satisfactory,” said Roman with a wink.

Qrow flushed furiously, all the way to the tips of his ears. “We are going to talk about this later,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Anyway,” Roman continued, “it’s not a question of money. None of us can legally purchase an airship. First, you have to be over twenty-five, which rules out Neo and the kids. Second, you have to pass a background check, which rules me and Qrow out—”

“Don’t all the kingdoms seal their criminal records from each other?” Qrow muttered. “Neither of us is on the books in Mistral, as far as I know.”

“That’s right,” said Roman. “But anyone who looks me up will certainly get the gist of what’s in my record, and _you_ thought it was a bright idea to keep the name of Remnant’s most notorious bandit tribe as your legal name.”

“It was the only name I had,” Qrow grumbled.

“And third,” Roman continued, as though he hadn’t been interrupted, “you have to pass a vision test, which rules out the old lady.”

“My eyes aren’t _that_ bad,” Maria objected. “I am perfectly capable of piloting an airship if needs must.”

“What color is my hair?” Roman asked her.

Maria pursed her lips. “Well, I’m not so good with colors…” The shutters on her goggles narrowed and she tapped the frames a couple times as she looked at him. “Blonde?”

Roman’s lip curled in distaste. _Blonde_. “Like I said, none of us can legally purchase an airship. And forging papers or finding one on the black market are both risky and would take too much time.”

“So you’re saying we do need to steal an airship, just not a military one,” Moody concluded.

“There’s no ‘we’ about it, kid,” said Roman. “Neo will get the codes, and I’ll get us our ride. The rest of you would only get in the way. I’ve marked four potential rendezvous points on the map—you’ll all split up and scout them.” With a swipe of his finger across his scroll, he sent his markups to the rest of their scrolls. “The first pair that finds a nice, secluded spot with no direct sight lines to the city and enough space to land an airship, drop your own marker, and we’ll all meet there. Should be simple enough even for you kids to handle.”

“What does Oz think of your plan?” Qrow asked before any of the others could respond.

Roman rolled his eyes. “You were both on board with stealing a train, how is an airship any different?”

“Wait, you stole a train?” Red asked Qrow.

Qrow shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “Ah, it was really only half a train…”

“That’s even weirder,” said Fisticuffs.

 _‘We won’t take the airship from a private citizen,’_ said Ozpin firmly. _‘We will take it from a dealership with_ excellent _theft insurance.’_

Roman smiled. “Oz recognizes when a certain amount of moral flexibility is required in service of the greater good. And I’m willing to bet the rest of you do, too.”

Roman waited for any objections, but as he suspected, no one was willing to open their own past actions or those of their friends up to judgement. Between the ex-bandit, the ex-Huntress who abandoned the fight, the little ex-White Fang terrorist, the Schnee blood dust empire ex-heiress, the fraud, the pair of street urchins with their own shady past, and the anger management case, their moral high ground was shaky at best. Little Red was the only one who didn’t seem to have any skeletons in her closet, and Roman found that most suspicious of all. There had to be something seriously wrong with that girl.

“Is everyone clear on the plan?” he asked, after allowing the silence to stretch on long enough for them all to come to the uncomfortable realization that none of them were going to attempt to stand in his way. His only answer was an assortment of shallow, silent nods. That was good enough for him. He went out into the hallway to grab his cane and coat off the rack, and the others followed suit, collecting their weapons and belongings and preparing to head out. They paired off like Roman had said—Fisticuffs with Kitty Cat, Sparky with Moody, Blondie with Ice Queen, and Little Red with Maria. Guilt made them awfully obedient.

Roman pulled his coat over his shoulders and turned around to find Qrow standing right behind him. “What should I do?” Qrow asked.

Roman shrugged. “You can help the kids out or not. Do whatever you want. Just don’t be late.”

“I need more than a simple scouting task right now…to keep my mind off things,” Qrow finished quietly. His hands were starting to tremble slightly around his mug of coffee, and it likely had little to do with the caffeine. But as soon as Roman noticed, he gripped the mug tighter.

Roman sighed. He’d already explained that he couldn’t babysit the grown Huntsman. “Neo doesn’t need any unnecessary complications at the base, and I certainly don’t need the…distraction.” Roman trailed off, rethinking his own piece of the plan. “Actually, I’ve thought of a use for you, after all. You’ll be coming with me.”

Qrow hung his head and released a trembling breath. “Okay.”

“Before we go,” said Blondie, “there’s something I think you guys will want to see. We came across it last night in the park nearby.”

“This ain’t a vacation,” said Roman. “We’re not here to sightsee.”

To Roman’s surprise, Blondie turned and snapped at him. “Would you just—“ He forced himself to lower his voice with a frustrated sigh. “—Just be a human being for once? This is important.” He returned Roman’s stare without flinching. “In fact, I think it’s important that you see it, too.”

Roman planted his cane on the floor and took a step toward the boy, then another. “What makes you think I—“

“You owe me,” said Blondie. “You said so yourself.”

Roman stopped in his tracks. “This is what you want? A literal walk in the park?” If this was seriously how the kid wanted to collect his debt, it was insulting. Roman’s life was worth more. If anyone else had had Roman in this position—

“Yes.”

Roman leaned forward on his cane to speak to the kid on his level. “Fine,” he said. “But this is all you’re getting from me. If, in the future, we find our positions reversed, and I have the ability to save your life, I will stand there and watch you die.”

_‘I won’t.’_

Of course Oz wouldn’t. Roman knew that. He was making a point. And judging by Blondie’s harsh swallow and pale-faced nod, he’d made it effectively. So Roman straightened and swept his arm out before him. “Lead the way.”

They all followed Blondie, Sparky and Moody outside and around the block to what wasn’t a park so much as a verdant little town square. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about it as far as Roman could tell, but a few of the others gasped as they drew nearer to the center where a tall, bronze statue of a young woman in armor stood, her head bowed and eyes downcast, but her stance still strong and resolute. She held a shield clasped in her hands, resting on her pedestal with a certain finality.

“What am I looking at?” Roman asked, when they stopped in front of the statue. “Some dead Huntress?”

That earned him dirty looks from all the kids—all except Blondie. His eyes remained fixed on the statue when he spoke. “Yes. I think she was a Huntress, at the end. She was also a teammate, and a friend, and so much more. Her name was Pyrrha Nikos.”

Well, now Roman could finally put a face to the name. And to be fair, it was quite a face. Roman could see now why Blondie was so bent-out-of-shape about her. “Huh,” he said. “Now what on Remnant did a girl like that ever see in you?”

Blondie’s friends clamored to come to his defense, but he spoke over them all until they quieted. “She saw the best in everyone,” he said. “But that’s not the point. The point is, she might still be alive, if you hadn’t helped Cinder that night.” He finally turned to face Roman. “Do you have anything to say?”

“You’re right,” said Roman, and for a moment, Blondie looked genuinely surprised. Until he continued, “She was a Huntress at the end. She died. That’s what Huntresses do.” Roman turned to walk away. He’d done what Blondie had asked. As far as he was concerned, they were even.

“You don’t care at all, do you?” Blondie asked hollowly.

Roman stilled, but he didn’t turn back around. “Caring is a luxury in this world, kid.” He gestured toward the memorial to the boy’s dead girlfriend. “I woulda thought life had taught you that lesson already.”

As he walked away, Ozpin took control just long enough to brush his fingers against the statue and murmur, “I’m sorry.” Then he let Roman leave. After all, she was just the latest in the long line of those Oz had left behind in the rubble.

Roman and Neo went their separate ways at the end of the block, which left Qrow as his only company, following along a few steps behind like a wounded dog. “Y’know, you probably bear at least as much responsibility for her death as Oz and I do,” the Huntsman said, finally. “So how come you get to be the only one of us who doesn’t carry any of that guilt?”

“What do you have to feel guilty for?” said Roman. “You weren’t there.”

“Exactly,” Qrow growled. “I shouldn’t’ve let Oz send me away. If I’d been there to help…maybe they’d both still be alive.”

Roman sighed. Qrow really was a piece of work. “You realize you said the exact opposite about Red’s mother. That if you _hadn’t_ been there trying to help, she might still be alive.”

Qrow chewed his lip hard, to the point where it looked like he wanted to draw blood. “I—“

Roman didn’t really care what Qrow had to say for himself. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth would just be more paradoxical, self-pitying fatalism. And that wasn’t something Roman gave any credence to. “It sounds to me like you’ll blame yourself, whatever you do. But what do you think Oz and the girl would’ve preferred? That you’d stayed and _maybe_ saved them, maybe died trying? Or that you left and saved some of the same people they died trying to save?”

Qrow didn’t answer the question. He didn’t need to. The answer was obvious. Instead, after awhile, he said, “Sometimes it almost seems like you do care. It’d be nice if you’d let some of the others see it once in awhile.”

Roman scoffed. “Caring wasn’t part of the deal. I did what the boy asked. I came. I saw. I left.” He pulled his collar up against the cold and then shoved his hands into his pockets, focusing on what lay ahead. Unlike Ozpin, he rarely spared a thought for who or what he left behind. Guilt, grief, remorse, regret, they were all alike. They never changed a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin: Hey, listen!
> 
> Ozpin: Hey, listen!
> 
> Ozpin: Hey, li—
> 
> Roman: FUCK! WHAT?
> 
> Ozpin: It’s dangerous to go alone, take Qrow!


	7. Hook, Line and Sinker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas to those who celebrate! Forgot to mention, I also made a Cloqwork Orange AMV: https://youtu.be/_RN67l1mnWw

It just so happened that the dealerships with the best theft insurance were also the most expensive. Roman and Qrow had taken the cablecar up to the clifftop where Argus Aviation was perched overlooking the rest of the city. It was a sleek, marble and glass structure surrounded by a sprawling airfield, ending in a runway that shot straight off the edge of the cliff over the open ocean.

 _‘I owe you an apology, Oz,’_ Roman thought as he took in the sight.

 _‘For what in particular?’_ replied Ozpin, sullenly.

 _‘I accused you of never letting me have any fun. But_ this. _This is going to be fun.’_

_‘If there were a better way of getting to Atlas, I know you would take it. You don’t want to alert the Atlesian authorities to our arrival any more than I do.’_

Roman’s smile thinned to a grimace. Leave it to Oz to kill the buzz with a cold dose of reality. Getting out of Argus would be easy. All the risk awaited them in Atlas. “Let’s get our wings,” he said.

“Speak for yourself,” Qrow scoffed. Then, with a flutter of dark feathers, he was gone.

Roman strolled on into the dealership, glass doors sweeping aside for him upon his approach. Only a certain class of people ever found themselves in the market for a private airship—industry tycoons, military officers, elite Huntsmen, powerful politicians, and of course, people in Roman’s line of work. The owner of the fine establishment had no way of knowing which of these Roman was when he entered, and so Roman received a royal welcome.

The man, who seemed to believe he could keep middle age at bay by the sheer magnificence of his mustache, which fanned out across his lip like a pair of great white, feathered wings, hurried up to Roman with a silver tray of little, fancy-looking espressos and a smile full of teeth that shone as white as his waxed hair. “Good morning, sir,” he greeted Roman. “May I interest you in a freshly-brewed artisanal espresso, from beans grown locally by—“

Roman, much to Ozpin’s horror, took two of the steaming cups off the tray and tossed them back one after the other like shots. The hot brew burned his throat on the way down, but it felt good just coming in out of the cold. He felt his heartbeat start to quicken and his senses sharpen slightly at the small rush of adrenaline from the infusion of caffeine. Even when he wasn’t working on four hours’ sleep, it never hurt to have a stimulant in his system when he was about to pull a job.

“Thanks for the pick-me-up.” He set both cups back on the tray. “I’m looking for something fast.”

The owner cleared his throat and quickly found his voice again. “A man who knows what he wants,” he said with a swift nod. “In that case, allow me to show you the fastest airship in our fleet.” He set the tray aside and led Roman out another set of sliding glass doors onto the airfield, where rows of airships of various models and colors crouched in the grass like a flock of giant, exotic birds just waiting to take flight.

Roman swore he felt his stomach do a little flip when he first caught sight of the airship the man meant to show him. It was an Angelus Arcwing, just about the sleekest craft ever made by man to seize his place in the sky. Its two wings unfurled from its flawlessly aerodynamic body like graceful, undulating waves, their undersides emanating a dreamlike purple glow from a layer of pure gravity dust that had been melted down, set and cooled to conform precisely to the airship’s unique wing shape. The single, fire dust-augmented engine at the back of the craft packed enough power to rival a rocket. In all, the Arcwing model was a soul-crushingly perfect marriage of form and function. Unlike other flashy pretenders, the Arcwing didn’t tease anything it couldn’t deliver, and then some. You didn’t see them much in Vale—they were only made in Mistral. But Roman had always wanted to take one for a spin. And, like a sign from the gods, this particular airship was painted just his shade of orange.

‘ _No.’_

Roman bit his lip. _‘But—‘_

‘No _. We both agreed that we will be best served by something inconspicuous, and_ that _is many things, but inconspicuous is not one of them.’_

The owner started describing the Angelus Arcwing’s specs and capabilities, all of which Roman already knew by heart. He didn’t listen, eyes roving instead over the vessel’s smooth lines and gorgeous craftsmanship, and imagining all the things he could do with a ship like that. _‘Come_ on _, Oz. Isn’t that the sexiest airship you’ve ever seen? I mean,_ fuck _, that thing is hotter than Cinder.’_

_‘You cannot be sexually attracted to an airship.’_

_‘You know full well that I can be, and I am.’_

_‘Why do the gods test me thus?’_ Ozpin muttered, seemingly to himself. Then, to Roman, he reiterated, _‘For the last time, no. You don’t need me to be your voice of reason in this. You_ know _it’s the wrong choice for our purposes.’_

Roman hadn’t realized he’d started growling under his breath until the owner paused his sales pitch to stare at him in alarm. Roman played it off like he’d been clearing his throat, masking a curse with one last cough into his glove before he wrapped both hands tightly around the handle of his cane and released a sharp sigh. “I’m actually looking for something more… _practical_ ,” he said through gritted teeth. “I only need it to haul some cumbersome cargo.”

The owner’s face fell, thinking he’d lost a large sale, but he gracefully agreed to show Roman another model instead. They crossed over to a drab, grey hunk of metal with a boxy pair of wings tacked on almost as an afterthought. Taking in Roman’s rather blatant contempt of the machine, the owner was quick to start his second pitch. “Now, don’t let the Geryon’s rugged exterior fool you,” he said. “She’s one of the fastest airships in the sky thanks to her military-grade engines, and a smooth ride to boot. I assure you, she comes fully outfitted with all the modern features, and she’s one of the most reliable,” Roman’s jaw clicked, “safe,” his leather gloves creaked as his grip tightened around his cane, “and fuel-efficient models on the market today.” Roman felt his dreams curl up and die in pitiful agony in his chest, bludgeoned to death by _necessity_.

“I’ll take it,” he said grimly.

“You– You’re sure? This is the one?”

Roman sized the Geryon up with the Manta in his mind, and confirmed that it was a pretty damn close match by size and silhouette. “This is the one,” he sighed. “You don’t mind if I take a look inside while you go get the paperwork started, do you?”

“Please, go right ahead,” said the other man, pulling a thick keyring packed with an assortment of shiny metal keys and colorful plastic keyfobs and keycards from his belt and flipping through it until he found the one he was looking for, and plucked it free. With the click of a button, the airship’s doors swung up and out, hydraulics hissing like lazy snakes.

“What anti-theft features does it come equipped with?” Roman asked casually. “Wouldn’t want to trip any by accident while I’m poking around.”

“We can install after-market biometrics here if that’s something you might be interested in,” said the man, hopefully. “But the factory default is a simple keyfob.” He held up the device in his hand, then tucked it away in his pocket. “She won’t fly without it.”

Roman nodded, holding out his hand. “I look forward to doing business with you.”

The owner shook it firmly. “Likewise. I’ll go get that paperwork ready for you, sir.” With a final bleach-white smile, he turned and made his way back into the building.

Roman uncurled his fingers around the keyfob in his hand, then stepped up into the airship and set to work. The fob alone wouldn’t be enough to get this baby off the ground. Expensive dealerships also put all their airships under land lock, controlled from the dealer’s central computer. Roman’s hacking skills were nothing near Watts’ level, but there was one area he specialized in—he could hijack damn near anything with an engine. He knelt down under the conn at the airship’s helm and pulled out his pocket toolkit from within his coat to open up the access panel and get at the machine’s inner workings. Two wires snipped and another two stripped and twined together, and the airship’s displays flickered to life, granting him access to the admin terminal. He entered one simple command, and the land lock indicator light went dark. Cleared for takeoff.

But there was one last thing to do. He reached back through the access hatch and groped around blindly until he felt what he was looking for: the airship’s transponder. With a touch of Aura-assisted strength, he ripped it right out if its casing. But rather than crushing it, as he usually would, he set it up on the conn as he took the controls and engaged the gravity dust drive, lifting the airship off the ground.

Through the windscreen, he saw the owner come running out onto the airfield, but Roman was already racing down the runway, quickly leaving the man in both varieties of his dust. He reached top drive speed right at the edge of the cliff, and he thrust the switch forward to fire up the combustion engines. His stomach lurched as he fell weightlessly with the ship for one heart-stopping second before the jets of flame roared to life and shot the craft up into the sky. Oh, but it felt good to be back in his element, doing what he did best. He slowed and circled back around, the dealership and its fleet nothing more than insignificant specks far beneath him in every sense.

In through the airship’s open door flew Qrow, right on time. Roman snatched the ship’s transponder off the conn and tossed it to him, and Qrow caught the little black box in his talons in midair. “Give the cops a good runaround,” he said with a grin.

Qrow _cawed_ and took off in the opposite direction as fast as his wings could carry him, wheeling through the air with glee, unburdened by the weight of the world below. For a moment, Roman envied him. But only for a moment. Like Qrow said, it was stupid to be jealous of each other. Neither of their circumstances were enviable.

Roman checked his scroll as he sped off, flying low over the tree line. Kitty Cat and Fisticuffs had pinged their location as the rendezvous point, so Roman adjusted his flightpath accordingly. In the distance, he heard the wail of police airship sirens heading _away_ from him. He smiled. Using Qrow as a decoy ought to buy him the time to pick up the others. They had better all be there before of him, because he was more than willing to leave any stragglers behind, and he might just be able to convince Ozpin to let him do it under the pretext that he’d be keeping them out of further danger. Especially after their little trip to the park earlier to admire the statuary.

Roman was surprised to find when he arrived at the rendezvous point that there was no place to land, especially when that had not only been explicitly listed among his criteria, but was clearly the most important one. Instead, there was just a small strip of rocky outcropping protruding from the tree line before plunging down a sheer cliff face into the ocean. Roman realized as he brought the airship down lower that this exact spot hadn’t been one of the ones he’d marked on the map. Checking his scroll again, he noted that his marker was almost a mile further north. He already knew that Little Red was directionally challenged, but was it somehow possible that _none_ of them could read a map? Could Oz have failed his students that badly?

 _‘I’m sure they have a reason…’_ said Ozpin, not sounding sure in the slightest.

Roman saw them all huddled around something below, but he never got a good look at the cause of the commotion as he lowered the airship until it was level with the ground, and strained to keep it hovering in place without crashing into the side of the cliff. “What the hell are we doing _here_?” he shouted through the open door over the rumble of the engines.

“We need your help!” Kitty Cat shouted back, as much as it obviously pained her to say so.

“With what, reading a map?”

“We killed someone!” Fisticuffs shouted.

Roman blinked. “I gave you kids one _simple_ job!”

The group parted to reveal the pale body of Adam Taurus, bleeding out in the dirt. Well. Roman certainly wasn’t sorry to see that little punk finally get what was coming to him. And he had to give it to the kids, he was rather impressed. He wouldn’t have crossed weapons with that boy in his past life. Roman lifted his eyes to the ceiling. Sometimes it seemed as though the gods were testing _him_. “Fine, bring him on board!” he yelled, motioning for everyone to get on the gods damned airship already.

The others made the jump over the cliff and into the airship’s open hold while Fisticuffs revved her bike with Maria seated on back and then took the jump herself, landing with a heavy thud and skid across the airship's floor, and a sigh of relief from the old Huntress when the vehicle came to a lurching halt. The last one remaining, Red lifted up Adam’s body, then burst into rose petals and rushed after them. Once inside, she laid the dead boy down on the floor of the airship, and kept watching him with wide eyes as though he might suddenly get up and walk around at any time, all the while trying to wipe his blood from her hands with the corner of her red cloak.

“Neo wouldn’t let us throw him off the cliff,” complained Fisticuffs, while Neo stood right beside her. They both crossed their arms and glared at each other.

“She was doing you a favor, kid,” said Roman. “The body would wash up on the beach, and assuming you killed him with your custom weapons, which, as good little academy students you must have _registered_ , ballistics and an autopsy could match his wounds to your weapons, and to you.” He and Neo exchanged a look. “Take the helm,” he told her. “I’ll clean up the mess.” He didn’t even bother asking if she’d successfully pulled off her own piece of the plan. He knew better by now.

They switched places, and Neo kept the airship hovering low beside the cliff where it wouldn’t be seen, either on radar or by anyone else who happened to be in the area. Roman looked over the body, contemplating his options.

“He was stalking us,” said Fisticuffs. “He tried to kill us.”

_‘I… How did I fail to notice?’_

Roman waved his hand to illustrate just how little he cared. “You don’t have to justify homicide to me. Especially not his,” he sneered down at Adam. “No one’s gonna miss him. I’d be surprised if that boy’s own mother loved him.”

Curiously, Kitty Cat’s ears pinned back to her head, and Fisticuffs reached out to clasp her hand. Roman’s eyes narrowed, his interest now piqued. “Why was he after you?” he asked. But even though he didn’t get an answer, he didn’t need one. It was written all over Kitty Cat’s face. “He was your White Fang connection, wasn’t he? He recruited you. Were you and he…?”

To his surprise, Kitty Cat actually bared her teeth and _hissed_ at him. Fisticuffs wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her back reassuringly, looking as though she wished for all the world in that moment that her fiery death glare actually _could_ kill. But Roman paid the girls little heed, dissolving into breathless chuckles while he leaned on his cane for support. “Gods, girl, you might have worse taste than I do.”

At that moment, Qrow flew in through the open door and landed next to Roman in his human form. “I ditched the transponder—“ he started to say, but was cut off when Kitty Cat screamed.

Everyone looked to her in surprise, but her wide eyes were fixed on Qrow, her ears now completely flat across her head, and she started to tremble ever so slightly in Fisticuffs’ arms. “W-what just happened?”

Qrow looked at her as though _she_ were the odd one for a second, but then he smacked his forehead. “I knew there was something we forgot to tell you.”

“Oops. Um, Uncle Qrow can actually turn into a crow,” Fisticuffs explained. “Same with Raven, but, y’know, a raven.”

Kitty Cat turned her contorted look of utter confusion on the other girl. “Then, can you…?”

Fisticuffs chuckled. “Nah, it’s not a Branwen thing. It’s an Ozpin thing.”

Kitty Cat’s features only scrunched up even more. She opened her mouth hesitantly, but was lost for words.

“Oz magicked us,” said Qrow absentmindedly, now staring down at the body on the floor, and taking a cautious step back to avoid the pooling blood. “What happened here?”

_‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell him, “magic” isn’t a verb.’_

“He’d been tracking us since Haven,” Fisticuffs answered. “He was waiting for Blake to be alone. But she wasn’t alone.” She squeezed Kitty Cat’s hand. “We killed him.”

Qrow looked crestfallen. “I was gonna take care of him for you. You girls shouldn’t’ve had to…”

“It’s okay, Uncle Qrow,” Fisticuffs said, with unusual gentleness. “I know you would have. But I think Blake and I had face him ourselves.” Kittly Cat leaned closer into her friend’s embrace, seeming to draw some of Fisticuffs’ endless reserves of strength and steely will for herself through the simple contact.

Qrow sighed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. And maybe you’re right. We all have to face our own demons.” He nudged Adam’s corpse with his toe. “But what are we gonna do with him?”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Roman. He clasped his cane in front of him in both hands, as Oz would when delivering a lecture. “Pay attention, kiddos. The first rule of getting away with murder is to make sure they never find the body.”

 _‘I never thought I’d say this,’_ Ozpin lamented, _‘but not everything has to be a teachable moment.’_

~ * ~

Neo kept the Manta illusion up around the airship until they were far out over the open ocean, well beyond the range of the observation towers and sensors of the Argus military base. Once there was nothing but water in all directions, she reduced speed and flew lower, until the airship was cruising only about twenty meters above the waves. Roman pushed open one of the doors and held onto the safety bar with one hand while he dangled the Lamp out over the water with the other.

_‘For the love of the gods, please be careful with that.’_

“You won’t let me drop it,” Roman countered. He started whistling loudly and crooning, “Here, Grimm beasties! Snack time!” To Ozpin, he muttered, “What sorts of Grimm did you say swim up this far north?”

Just then, a massive dark creature with jaws as wide as Roman was tall and endless rows of serrated teeth surged up out of the water, all those teeth snapping shut just shy of Roman’s arm. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, jerking his arm up higher as the beast fell back beneath the waves with a huge splash. When he peered down again, he could see three more dark shapes as big as the one that had just tried to take a bite out of him, circling just below the surface, each with a jagged, inky-black dorsal fin jutting up above the water like some sick, nightmare version of a shark.

 _‘Those would be lamia,’_ said Ozpin.

They would certainly do the trick. “Well, this’ll give a whole new meaning to ‘sleeping with the fishes.’ Care to do the honors?” he asked Qrow.

Qrow cast one last look of disgust down at Adam’s corpse and gave his answer without hesitation. “Gladly.”

Roman held the Lamp out over the water again, and the next time one of the lamia launched itself out of the waves to try to snap it up it along with Roman’s arm, Qrow kicked the boy’s body over the edge into the monster’s gaping jaws. Roman wasn’t sure whether it was the Lamp or the blood that whipped the creatures into such a frenzy, fighting each other for every scrap of meat, but it was over in seconds, their thrashing and gnashing leaving nothing behind but a red froth on the waves. And soon, even the bright patch of red was swallowed by the dark sea.

Roman stepped back into the hold and fastened the Lamp to his belt again. He raised an eyebrow when Qrow abruptly and violently threw up his breakfast into the ocean. “I’m still hungover,” the Huntsman groaned when he was finished. He reached for his flask out of habit before remembering he no longer had it. Roman handed it to him wordlessly. It was still filled with water, after all. Qrow nodded his thanks, taking a couple swigs to rinse out his mouth and spitting over the side, then gulping down the rest. He then handed the flask back to Roman before he could think about keeping it.

Roman siphoned off some water from the hydraulics system to wash the blood off the floor, then he pulled the door closed and gave the go-ahead to Neo continue on their way to Atlas. “In all my years, I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for impaired vision,” said Maria after awhile.

“I’m sorry you had to see that at all,” said Kitty Cat softly. “Any of you.”

“Oh, I think you misunderstand me,” said Maria. “People who hunt Huntresses deserve to share the fate of prey. It’s just that I’ve developed a rather sensitive stomach in my later years. Have to take antacids for it and everything.” She reached into her robe and popped a couple of little white pills. “Getting old sucks, don’t do it.”

Kitty Cat finally smiled a little, and some of the other kids chuckled ruefully. “We’re a team,” murmured Little Red. She finally stopped wringing her stained cloak in her hands. “Whatever comes, we’ll face it together.”

“Damn right, we will,” said Sparky. And chuckles grew into earnest laughter that filled the little airship as it sped its way to the city at the top of the world.

~ * ~

Neo placed her illusion around the airship again as the great floating metropolis loomed on the dusky horizon. They flew past other Manta fighters patrolling the skies without even catching their attention, heading straight for the twin cities—the shining city in the clouds, and its forgotten shadow. When they crossed through the ring of gun turrets rising up out of the ocean at regular intervals around the shoreline, a curt, feminine voice crackled over the comms. _“Welcome back, pilots. We have landing bay 6-E prepped for you, but there appears to be an issue with your transponder. Please verify landing codes.”_

Roman leaned over Neo’s shoulder and pressed the comms switch to respond. “Copy that, Atlas ATC. Landing codes Alpha-Foxtrot-Delta-Three-Two-Seven, clearance Echo-Five.”

The comms were silent for a moment before the voice responded, _“We copy, Manta. You are cleared for landing.”_

Roman released a sigh of relief, squeezing Neo’s shoulder for a job well done. She gave him a strained smile. The illusion was clearly beginning to wear on her. He pointed to a darkened warehouse district down in Mantle as they approached. “Set us down there,” he said. She nodded and started the descent.

“We’re not landing up in Atlas?” Ice Queen asked.

“I’m not setting foot in Atlas until Oz makes contact with the General and tells him to call off his dogs,” said Roman. “Until then, we lie low.”

As more of Mantle came into view, the kingdom’s dire straits were visible etched into the urban landscape. The city’s outer defenses were falling into disrepair, and the buildings nestled within their supposedly secure embrace didn’t look much better off. On the sides of dilapidated structures all over the city, big, bright holographic banners bearing Atlas’ crest encouraged the citizens of Mantle to “Stay Strong, and Stay Vigilant.”

Neo lowered the airship to the ground in the middle of a wide, darkened and empty street, finally allowing her illusion to fall away under cover of the shadows. They slipped out into the night and made their way swiftly down the street, seeking someplace to take temporary shelter while they assessed their options and planned their next move. But they didn’t make it far.

“Halt, intruders!”

They all froze in place. Roman recognized that voice. And he wasn’t the only one. Red gasped when she turned around to take in its source. Hovering high in the night sky on jets of bright green flame was that irritating little robot girl who’d bit the big one back at Beacon. Evidently, someone had rebuilt her—and with a few improvements.

“Drop your weapons, place your hands on your heads, and prepare to be detained,” she continued.

Roman raised his cane, fixing her in his sights. “By you and what army, Toaster?” he called. It wasn’t too late to escape. He just had to take her out before she alerted the authorities.

She spread her arms, and mechanical sounds of rhythmic marching echoed down the previously silent side streets as rows of Atlas’ tin soldiers appeared from out of the shadows all around them, their eyes glowing the same green as the girl’s. “I believe this army should be sufficient,” she said.

Shit. Somehow, they’d walked right into a trap. “Penny!” Little Red cried. “It’s us!”

The apertures in the robo-girl’s eyes flashed as they zoomed in across the distance. Then a big smile spread across her face, as bright as the moon at her back. “Ruby Rose!” she exclaimed. She swooped in at blinding speed, tackling Little Red to the ground in a crushing hug. “It is so good to see you again! And I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Red wheezed, but the other girl shook her head.

“No, I mean, I am sorry that I still have to detain you,” she said. Roman heard the all-too familiar click of a pair of handcuffs ratcheting shut, and Red blinked up at her friend in surprise. “I am certain you have a very good reason for breaking the law. And you will have ample opportunity to explain it to the Ace Operatives.”

Suddenly, the others all hit the ground one after another without even a chance to put up a fight, and then Roman, too lurched forward, losing his balance and biting the dirt as a bolas whipped around him, immobilizing him before he could even see his attacker. He tapped into his Semblance, preparing to smoke out of his bonds, but Ozpin stopped him.

_‘Don’t resist. You will only aggravate the situation. If we hope to succeed now, we cannot act the part of the enemy they think we are.’_

Damn it all, but Roman hated when Oz was right. Beside him, Qrow cursed as he struggled against his own bindings. “How did they know we were coming?” he growled.

A man not much older than Roman with ruddy brown hair and bright, sea green eyes walked up beside them, chuckling as he crouched down and replaced the bolas with handcuffs. He wore a white military uniform, and carried what looked like some bizarre form of weaponized fishing pole slung over his shoulder. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Roman couldn't quite put his finger on it. “Central Command cycled new landing codes a few hours ago,” he said. He winked at Qrow. “Bad luck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman: *rabid growling*
> 
> Penny: Criminals are not allowed in this area unrestrained.
> 
> Qrow: But ma'am, that's my emotional support criminal.
> 
> [A/N: Someone asked how the small age gap between Qrow and Oz in this fic panned out back in their Beacon days, and since I'm not sure if I'll get that deep into their backstory, I'm posting my reply here for those who are curious! So we know canonically that Ozpin was the youngest headmaster in history, but I think he was /very/ young. I think he took up the role at 20. He probably enrolled at Beacon early like Ruby did, on his own merits, before becoming Ozma's host while he was still a student. He was top of his class before Ozma, but with Ozma's help, he became a prodigy. We also know that the King of Vale placed his most trusted advisors in charge of the academies when he founded them, so the headmaster of Beacon when Ozpin was a student there was likely still the same headmaster appointed by the King. But that was 35 years before Ozpin was born, and the old headmaster is getting on in years and looking for a successor. Ozma knows he can trust the headmaster as he did before as King, so he reveals himself to him. And together, they make arrangements for Ozpin to succeed the old headmaster upon Ozpin's (early) graduation. The old headmaster makes a show of personally taking Ozpin under his wing and grooming him for the position to give him some legitimacy, and of course in the end Ozpin proves himself to be the most capable among the pool of hopefuls. So Ozpin becomes both professor and headmaster on his own graduation day, with the old headmaster likely staying on in an advisory capacity for a few years to smooth the transition. Of course, in those early years, there are those who question Ozpin's suitability for the role of headmaster because of his age. But he proves all of them wrong, and soon, people stop questioning his capabilities.
> 
> And so Qrow (18) enrolls at Beacon among Ozpin's (20) first freshman class of students. I think that's also why Oz was looking for proteges among that first class, because the members of the his previous inner circle (the King's advisors) were scattered across Remnant leading the other academies, so he needed to find a new generation of skilled Huntsmen & Huntresses he could trust and rely on. Of course, Qrow has no respect for authority to begin with, and even though Ozpin looks older than he is thanks to his silver hair, the small age gap only emboldens Qrow to pursue Ozpin romantically, much to Oz's distress. But Ozpin can't deny Team STRQ's exceptional skill and as he starts offering them more extracurricular missions & training to test them as candidates for his new inner circle, Qrow manages to wear him down over those years until they both fall, unexpectedly, into love. And the rest is history!
> 
> Meanwhile, little baby Roman is 2 years old when Ozpin takes in his first freshman class. But just 5 years later, he’ll have to flee for his life with his baby sister and learn to survive on his wits and his weapon in the City of Vale’s criminal underworld. By the time Roman turns 20, he’s the most powerful crime boss in Vale. By 22, he’s the only crime boss in Vale. Roman has built his empire. And the rest is history :) ]


	8. Caged Creatures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm allowing myself one soap opera moment here 😁

Roman had heard of Atlas’ Ace Ops. Everyone who lived on the wrong side of the law knew all about the elite team of military Huntsmen and Huntresses hand-picked by the General for missions deemed too difficult or too dangerous for other Huntsmen and soldiers alike. Their pristine white uniforms gave the impression of impeccable precision and grace, but they were essentially special forces, and they weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Of course, their jurisdiction didn’t extend beyond Atlas, so they operated exclusively within the kingdom’s borders. But their reputation was known all across Remnant. It wasn’t uncommon to hear one criminal complaining of the heat he was under from the cops, only for another to comment, “At least you don’t have the Ace Ops on your ass.” Roman had probably said it himself more than once. Now, he could practically taste the bitter irony as his hands were forced behind his back and cuffed tightly, and he was disarmed and frisked.

Roman heard the objections and protests of the others behind him as the rest of the Aces arrived to do the same to them, but all Roman could see were the boots of the man in front of him, who seemed to be their captain. He unhooked the Lamp from Roman’s belt and held it out in front of him with some uncertainty, as though it might suddenly turn into a snake and strike. “What is this?” he demanded. “Some sort of bomb? Where is the detonator?”

“It’s a lamp,” Roman hissed. The man had missed his dagger tucked snugly into his glove—a replacement for the one Hazel had snapped like a toothpick—but now the cuffs were pressing it uncomfortably close to his skin. One wrong move, and he could accidentally slit his own wrist. “Not to mention, a priceless antique, so be careful with it.”

“A lamp,” the man repeated, turning the Relic around to examine it more closely. “Is it me, or do weapons just keep getting weirder?” he muttered to himself.

“Not a weapon,” Roman sighed. “And you’re one to talk. Really, who weaponizes a fishing pole?”

The man met his gaze, unimpressed. “I need a blast box for this,” he called to his teammates. “It might be a bomb.”

A small woman with a tuft of two-tone brown and platinum blonde hair atop her otherwise shaved head appeared by her captain’s side in a flash—literally. She had the fastest speed Semblance Roman had ever seen, fast enough to generate some flashy static electricity. She held open a black steel box with walls six inches thick for the man to place the Lamp inside, and then she latched it shut.

“Get that secured for transport,” he told her. With a sharp nod, she was gone as suddenly as she’d appeared. The man then hauled Roman to his feet and shoved him into the back of an armored truck with the others.

“Don’t you know who I am?” Ice Queen demanded. When none of the Ace Ops showed any sign of recognition, she balked. “I’m Weiss Schnee, and I demand you contact my family attorney!”

The woman holding her was built like a tree and brawnier than any of the men on the team. She merely laughed as she pushed Ice Queen’s head down effortlessly to load her into the truck. “If I had a Lien for every bleach blonde prima donna claiming to be the missing Schnee heiress, I’d be as rich as she is.” Then she slammed the door shut in Ice Queen’s face.

The truck’s engine growled to life, and it lurched into motion, prowling slowly forward. There were no windows in the back, just a fluorescent strip light swaying from the roof. Ice Queen looked as pale as a ghost under its shifting, sickly glow as she sat down on one of the benches, all that hot air deflating right out of her. “Why are they treating us like…”

“Criminals?” Roman finished for her. They all looked at him, and the penny finally dropped. “They’ve already decided you’re guilty by association. The only question they’ll be looking to answer is just what you’re guilty _of_. So just keep your yappy traps shut for once, got it?”

“But if we just explain,” Sparky began.

“ _No_ ,” Roman snarled. “We don’t know who we can trust here. The only person we will be doing any talking to is the General himself. He’ll get wind of this sooner or later. Until then, just sit down, shut up, and do what the nice jackboots tell you to do. You’re all too young—“ he glanced at Maria “—or too old for them to rough up too badly, especially if you don’t give them anything against you by opening your damn mouths. If you forget what to do, just copy Neo.”

He and Neo exchanged a long look. Roman had been arrested numerous times before, but Neo had never once been caught. She didn’t appear ruffled in the slightest, maintaining a silent, stalwart presence at his side. But if she felt anything like he had his first time, then he needed to be just as strong for her. He did his best to tell her in every way but with words that they were going to be okay. Together, they had made it through worse nights than this.

“He’s right,” said Kitty Cat, to his surprise. “It’ll be best if we just keep our heads down and say nothing.” It sounded like this wasn’t her first time, either.

“This is why I only come to Atlas once every ten years,” Maria sighed.

“What about you and Qrow?” Red asked softly.

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Roman sneered. “This ain’t our first rodeo, right Branwen?” He turned to the Huntsman at his other side, but Qrow’s eyes were distant, his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. Of course Qrow thought it was his fault they’d been caught. Hell, it probably was. Roman elbowed him sharply in the side, and he straightened somewhat.

“Yeah,” said Qrow. “I’ve had my share of run-ins with law enforcement. Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be fine.” He even mustered a small smile. It didn’t fool anyone.

_‘This isn’t his fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have let them accompany us.’_

_‘The kids might be the reason we weren’t shot on sight,’_ Roman countered. He shifted uncomfortably on the metal bench and hissed as his dagger nicked his skin. “That’s it,” he said, fed up. He imagined that the cuffs were denser and heavier than his arms, and then they were, falling right through onto the bench behind him in a plume of black smoke. He repositioned his dagger and then rubbed some circulation back into his tingling wrists. “Some Ace,” he grumbled. “Doesn’t even know how to handcuff another man right.”

_‘Roman—‘_

_‘Don’t worry, I’ll put them back on. Sheesh, you nag so much, sometimes I think we_ are _married.’_

Everyone was staring at him again. “You could have done that this whole time?” Blondie asked.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Don’t get excited. No one’s going anywhere anytime soon. Resisting arrest wouldn’t be a good look for us.” He picked the handcuffs up and twirled them around his finger a few times with a smirk. “Wanna keep these for later?” he asked Qrow.

The Huntsman’s eyes went wide and he choked on any sort of response. But Roman didn’t miss the way his breath hitched and his throat worked around a dry swallow. Roman’s smile split, showing teeth. That was all the answer he needed. It never hurt to have something to look forward to in situations like these.

“Eugh, would you stop?!” Fisticuffs shouted. “That is not an image I needed!”

“I thought today couldn’t get any worse,” Little Red whispered, her silver eyes haunted. She buried her face in her sister’s mane of hair. “I was so wrong.”

“I don't get it,” murmured Blondie to his teammates.

“It’s a sex thing,” Moody said sagely.

Blondie’s face screwed up in disbelief and his voice cracked when he asked, “W-why? What kind of person actually enjoys this?” He rattled his own cuffs behind his back to punctuate his point.

“It’s all about control,” said Roman nonchalantly. “Isn’t that right, Oz?”

 _‘Why are you bringing me into this?’_ Ozpin moaned in absolute mortification.

“Oh please,” Roman scoffed. “Don’t pretend you don’t get off on keeping me on a leash.”

_‘I do not. I would prefer you didn’t need one.’_

Roman chuckled. “Liar.”

After a moment, Oz asked, _‘Are you deliberately distracting the others from our current situation?’_

Roman’s expression returned to perfect, practiced neutral. He spun the latches of the cuffs all the way through the frames and back around, tucking his arms behind his back and clicking the bracelets shut around his wrists once more. _‘No. I just wanna handcuff your boyfriend to a headboard and crack the wall with it. I don’t always have ulterior motives.’_

Ozpin hummed thoughtfully. _‘Liar.’_

The truck trundled to a halt, as did any further thoughts of distraction. Wherever they were being taken, they’d arrived. They heard the cabin doors open and then slam closed, and moments later, the back door was thrown open by the other two Ace Ops Roman hadn’t gotten a good look at before. One was a pale, tall and slender man with unsettlingly alien features and long, whiplike extensions to his arms that appeared to be composed of pure energy from his own Aura. The other was a dark-haired dog Faunus, if the fluffy tail was any indication. “Come on out,” said Fido.

Maria and the kids must have taken Roman’s words to heart, because they filed out of the truck in obedient silence, Kitty Cat giving the other Faunus a particularly wide berth. Roman followed Neo out after them, but the K-9 officer pulled him aside, keeping a firm hand around the chain of his cuffs. Roman bit back a threat about putting the dog down—but just barely, and Oz might have helped.

Then he noticed Qrow hadn’t followed him out. The Huntsman was still standing in the truck looking down at all of them. The light started to flicker ominously above him. “They’re just kids,” he said, and there was an animal sort of growl in the depths of his voice. “What do you think you’re gonna do with ‘em?”

Fido’s tail swished slowly in agitation. “I said, _come_.” He pointed down at his side like one would when, well, when training a dog. And there was something strange in the way he spoke the word, almost like a dog whistle, just on the edge of hearing. Then, to everyone’s surprise—Qrow’s most of all, it seemed—Qrow did as he was told, walking stiffly forward and stepping down out of the truck to stand where he was directed. Fido sighed. “We’re not the bad guys here.”

Whiplash extended his snakelike arms to pull the door to the truck shut. Then he and Fido ushered them all into a run-down Mantle police station that the Ace Ops appeared to have commandeered for the evening. Jackrabbit and Lumberjane followed them inside, arms laden with all their weapons and the blast box containing the Lamp. The Aces’ cocky captain was already there waiting for them.

“Elm, get the weapons into lockup,” he ordered. Jackrabbit gave Lumberjane her load, and the larger woman hefted all of their weapons easily, walking away and disappearing into a backroom. “Vine, Marrow, secure the kids and the old woman in the holding cell.” Fido finally let go of Roman to open the cell door while Whiplash corralled the others through it using those freaky spectral arms of his. “Harriet, take him.” He gestured to Qrow, and Jackrabbit appeared at the Huntsman’s side the next second. She was comically small standing in his shadow, but with one forceful push, she had Qrow stumbling forward down the hall to another set of rooms. “I’ll handle Torchwick myself,” the captain muttered, stepping forward to place an unyielding hand on Roman’s shoulder and turn him to face down the hallway after Qrow.

Roman looked back at Neo, making eye contact through the bars of the holding cell. He flattened his palms parallel to the ground behind him, their signal to stand down. No prison break this time. At least, not yet. Roman wouldn't rule it out as a last resort.

“You should be more concerned about yourself than them,” said the captain, misinterpreting Roman’s backward glance as he pushed the mobster forward. 

It was then that Roman noticed his wanted bulletin flickering up on the wall, his own face smirking down at him from a lifetime ago, back when his biggest problem was local law enforcement. It wasn’t his best angle, but that wasn’t the part that irked him the most. “Twenty million Lien’s a little low, don’t you think?”

“Or your opinion of yourself’s a little high,” said the other man, marching Roman down the hall. They stopped one door down from the room Jackrabbit had shoved Qrow into, and the captain pressed his palm to the biometric scanner beside it. The steel door slid up, and then slammed back down behind them like a guillotine blade once they were through. There was nothing inside but a metal table bolted to the floor and flanked by a few metal chairs. It was an interrogation chamber, probably a copy of the room Qrow was in next door.

The captain unfastened one of Roman’s cuffs only to refasten it so Roman’s arms were in front of him rather than behind his back. Then he pulled Roman’s arms forward over the table and locked the sturdy shackle in the center of its steel surface around the chain connecting the cuffs, probably thinking that would be sufficient to hold Roman in place. Of course, with Roman’s smoke Semblance, there really wasn’t anyone but Ozpin who could physically force him into a position he didn’t want to be in, so he wasn’t too concerned about his bindings. But being shackled to the table made standing uncomfortable, so he sat down in one of the chairs before he could be told to. The captain followed suit and eased into the chair across from him.

“You’re being surprisingly cooperative so far. I don’t suppose you’re inclined to talk?”

“Sure,” said Roman amiably. “Awful weather Atlas is having this time of year. I'd say it's cold enough for Hell to freeze over, but maybe we're already there.”

The other man didn’t take the bait. “What is the nature of the terrorist plot against Atlas?”

Roman shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The captain came at it from a different angle. “What did you intend to accomplish here?”

“If you really want to know,” Roman drawled, “I came here to pay a visit to General Ironwood. We’re old friends, the General and I. So I’d appreciate if you’d let him know that I’ve arrived.”

“Whatever you tell me will be included in my report to General Ironwood. But not until you say something worth the General’s time.” He gave an irritated sigh. "And he doesn't put his _friends_ at the top of the Most Wanted List."

Roman smiled. "Well, if he wants me that badly, he can come and get me."

The captain’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “Did you come to Atlas to assassinate General Ironwood?”

Raised voices—one deep and rough, one sharp and acerbic—emanated through the wall. Qrow and Jackrabbit were arguing, but Roman couldn’t make out the words.

The captain continued. “Or were you going to have your associate do the dirty work?”

“He’s a Huntsman,” said Roman. “You checked his license.”

“He’s a Branwen, a _bandit_ ,” the captain ground out. “In league with a criminal kingpin with ample resources to forge records.”

Roman snorted. “If his license were a forgery, don’t you think he woulda picked a different name?”

“Forging a Huntsman license and registration is one thing. Fabricating an entire identity is another,” said the captain, unswayed. “But you’re well aware of that already, aren’t you, Omen?”

Roman’s blood ran cold enough to freeze him in place, his retort shattering like ice on his tongue. No one knew that name. He doubted even Neo remembered that it used to be his. “What did you call me?”

The captain responded with another question. “You don’t recognize me, do you?”

Roman swore that he did. But even as he examined the man across from him more carefully, he just couldn’t place where or when he’d seen him before. Had Atlas violated Vale’s sovereignty and sent the Ace Op to infiltrate Roman’s organization? If anyone could dig up Roman’s past (anyone without a direct link to his soul, that is), it would be the elite special forces of the most advanced military on Remnant. But how, and when, and why?

Roman’s train of thought derailed when he heard Qrow scream. Roman had fought alongside the Huntsman, witnessed him injured, even on the verge of death, but he had never heard Qrow make a sound quite like that.

_‘Qrow—’_

Roman tried to tamp down Ozpin’s fears by force. Ozpin wasn’t the one in control. He was. “You gonna give those kids out there the same treatment as my _associate_?”

That did the trick. The captain’s stony façade cracked, just a little. He believed he was one of the good guys, after all. And there was one thing he and Ozpin and Qrow and all these savior types had in common—guilt. For the ones they couldn’t save. “Kids infiltrated Beacon,” he said. And wasn’t that ironic, Qrow’s own intelligence that he’d flown all the way to Atlas to give to Ironwood, coming back to bite them all in the ass. Just his luck. “I may be idealistic, but I’m not naïve. And neither are you. This will go better for them if you talk. And worse for you if you don’t.”

Roman sighed melodramatically. He’d been on the other side of this conversation too many times to be intimidated by carefully veiled threats lacking in imagination and a true thirst for blood. Roman lacked neither of those things. “Save your breath. I know how this goes. You let me listen to my partner’s screams for awhile in the hopes that I’ll get scared into spilling my secrets. The military took that trick from the mafia. But I’ll let you in on a little secret, and you don’t even have to beat it out of me.” He leaned forward across the table, motioning for the other man to do the same. With one more glance to make sure that Roman’s restraints were still secure, the captain did so. Roman smirked as he whispered in his ear, “I like it when he screams.”

The captain pulled back and favored him with one of the most disgusted looks Roman had ever been on the receiving end of. And Roman counted that as quite an accomplishment, considering. “What happened to you?”

Roman scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“I really don’t,” said the captain gravely.

“But you thought you did,” Roman pressed, because the fact that he couldn’t pin down their past connection was getting under his skin.

The captain flicked his badge with a finger. “Maybe this will jog your memory.” Now that Roman was looking at it, he realized it wasn’t standard military issue—not an indication of his rank or division. It was his personal emblem, and it rather resembled a…

“Clover?” Roman’s cousin Clover couldn’t have been more than ten years old the first and last time they’d met. But he could see it now, in the shining green of his eyes, the sharp arch of his brows, the warm, country brown kiss of his skin that wasn’t too common among the cold-blooded Atlesian natives. He must have dyed his hair a few shades darker—that, or he really didn’t see much sun in this dreary kingdom of iron and ice. But it was him. “Clover Brunswick.” Roman smiled broadly. “Well, it’s good to see you again, cuz.”

“It’s Clover Ebi now,” he said. “I took my mother’s name.”

Roman hummed. “Makes sense, after what your father did.”

Clover stiffened, his already impeccable military posture going ramrod straight. “What do you know about that?”

Roman leaned back and relaxed into his chair, the complete opposite of his cousin across from him now, when they used to be so alike. “As luck would have it, I found myself passing through Brunswick Farms just yesterday, on my way here. Everything was remarkably…well-preserved. Must be the cold climate.”

“I should have burned that place to the ground on my way out,” Clover spat.

Roman spread his hands graciously, to the extent that he could. “You can thank me, then. I did it for you. But I have to ask, how did you manage to escape the apathy when no one else did?”

“I got lucky,” Clover said distantly. “Something woke me up in the middle of the night. My sister…” He shook his head, breaking free of that faraway look in his eyes. “I’m asking the questions here.”

Roman had to keep Clover talking, to buy as much time as he could before his cousin felt he had to escalate things further. “You asked what happened to me. Grimm got my parents, too, the night my sister was born. I escaped with her to the city, where we learned to fend for ourselves. But if anything were to happen to her… Everything I’ve done so far wouldn’t hold a candle to what I would do. I take it you know the feeling. Because your sister wasn’t so lucky, was she?”

“It was fifteen years ago,” said Clover, as stolid and unmoving as Atlesian ice. But then, the ice began to melt. He hung his head heavily, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “But I still remember it like it was yesterday. The sound that woke me was my sister getting out of bed. So I followed her. I should have been worried, should have stopped her…but I wasn’t, so I didn’t. I just…watched, as she walked outside to the well, and stepped up onto the ledge. It was only when she looked back at me, like it was the last time, that I _finally_ felt fear. I ran to her, but she took that last step and dropped straight down. I threw the bucket in after her so I could pull her back up, but she wouldn’t grab onto it, and there were _things_ down there in the water with her. I couldn’t fish her out before…before they pulled her under.” Clover’s fingers traced the arc of his strange fishing rod where it lay across his lap, but he didn’t seem aware that he was doing it.

“I ran to get my parents’ help, but they wouldn’t wake up,” he continued. “No one on the estate would. And I was getting so tired… So I took one of the horses and rode as fast and as far away from there as I could. It was only once I made it to the nearest village that I ran into a local Huntsman who said Bartleby had asked him about _capturing_ those creatures. The Huntsman told him it would be suicide. And I suppose, in the end, it was. But if my father were alive today, I’d thank him for just one thing.”

“Oh?” said Roman. “What’s that?”

“Because of him, I knew I wanted to fight monsters.” Clover looked up from his weapon and stared Roman dead in the eyes. “Whatever form they take.”

Roman chuckled, low and soft. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? The only way to survive the monsters is to become one.”

“That’s not true,” Clover growled.

Qrow screamed again.

Roman leaned over the table and rested his chin in his hands with a smile. “Are you sure?”

Just then, there was a commotion out in the hall, and Roman heard a voice he’d gotten to know _intimately_ during the time they’d spent together in such close quarters. _“Stop this interrogation immediately!”_ General Ironwood shouted into the room next door.

 _“But, sir—“_ came Jackrabbit’s voice, fully audible now with the door open.

 _“That’s an order!”_ Ironwood bellowed.

_“Sir, yes, sir!”_

There was some shuffling, the clinking of handcuffs being removed. Then the General spoke again. _“Qrow, I am so sorry. If I’d known you were coming…”_

 _“’S fine,”_ Qrow groaned. _“We knew the risks.”_

 _“Is_ he _with you?”_

Qrow let out a broken laugh. _“Yeah. Right next door.”_

Inevitably, the General’s heavy footfalls came closer, and stopped right outside the door. Clover was already standing at attention when the door slid open. Roman wished he could’ve taken a picture of the General’s face when their eyes met. The way it fell from cautious anticipation completely into the depths of horror and disbelief was priceless.

Roman’s eyes flashed like a warning sign while Clover’s back was turned, and then Ozpin spoke in precisely the same tone he would use with a student who’d been sent to his office for disciplinary action. “Hello, James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ozpin: I'm sorry I made you come...
> 
> Roman: I said I didn't want to talk about that.
> 
> Ozpin: I'm sorry I made you come TO ATLAS.
> 
> Roman: Ah.


	9. Fractures

_“No,”_ Ironwood whispered. He stood rooted to the spot, as though all of his metal parts had suddenly rusted, as rigid as one of his tin soldiers.

“I regret that we’re not meeting again under better circumstances,” Ozpin said, acknowledging Ironwood’s disappointment as well as his own. “But perhaps we could talk as we used to, in the comfort of your office. In _private_.”

Clover balked, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Sir, do you two actually know each other?” he asked, voice reedy with uncertainty. “He said you did, but I just assumed he was lying.”

Ironwood finally shook himself out of his shock. “There’s been…a misunderstanding here,” he said slowly. “Release the prisoner, Captain Ebi.”

Clover carefully pulled the keyring off his belt and began flipping through the keys one by one. “Sir, may I ask why you’re ordering me to release a known mass murderer, terrorist and war criminal?”

With Ironwood now in on their little secret, Ozpin returned control to Roman so that Clover wouldn’t catch onto the fact that there were really four people in the room, not three. “I’m not a military man,” Roman drawled, “but doesn’t there have to be a war on for someone to commit a war crime?”

Ironwood’s mouth twitched in the beginnings of a scowl. The General really looked like he’d been through the wringer since Roman had last seen him. He was now sporting a full (and poorly kept) beard. His eyes looked sunken, like he hadn’t been sleeping. And had he had quite that much grey hair at his temples before? “Any day now, Clover,” Ironwood ground out.  
  
“Sir, you haven’t answered my question,” Clover pressed.

“I am your commander; I don’t have to answer your questions!” Ironwood snapped. But the startled look Clover shot him was enough to make him take a breath and start over. “He’s on our side. They all are. They’re…Ozpin’s agents.”

Clover stopped flipping through his keys altogether. “Even Torchwick?”

Ironwood massaged his temples. “Especially Torchwick,” he hissed.

Roman stretched and tucked his now-free hands behind his head. “Figured I’d save you the trouble.” He winked at Clover, who cursed and dropped his keys. The Ace backed away to a safer distance.

But to Roman’s surprise, Ironwood stepped forward and held out a hand to help him to his feet. And just like that, he was blindsided by another scene from Ozpin’s past.

_He saw Ironwood standing before him, hand extended to help him up off the floor, but the man was much younger than he was now, barely more than a boy. Still, he wore the crisp, white uniform of an Atlesian cadet, and he held himself with the poise and self-assurance of a man twice his age. Two other boys wearing the Beacon school uniform scampered away down the hall behind him, looking back over their shoulders to see if he’d give chase before they skidded around the corner and disappeared. But Ironwood stayed right where he was, offering his hand with a smile much gentler than the sharp cut of his uniform would suggest. “Are you alright?” he asked._

_“Quite alright, thank you,” he said, accepting the other boy’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled to his feet. He brushed himself off and smoothed down his own uniform. “I am perfectly capable of defending myself against bullies if I so choose.” But he told himself he wasn’t like them—he didn’t want to be feared. He was scrawny, soft-spoken and hadn’t yet hit his growth spurt. He hardly rose to the height of this older boy’s chest, and he had to lift his chin to make eye contact. He had never once inspired fear in his life. But he knew what it felt like to have kings fall at his feet in fear, and he knew he hated the feeling. It reminded him of much older memories still._

_“I don’t doubt it,” said Ironwood, “considering you qualified to compete in the Vytal Festival and they did not, even though you’re four years their junior. At your age, you should still be in battle school, but instead, you’re a sophomore at Beacon Academy. Your accomplishments speak for themselves.”_

_He blinked in surprise. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know a lot about me, but I don’t believe I know you.”_

_“I like to know my competition,” said Ironwood. “I’m fighting in the tournament as well. Perhaps the next time we meet, it will be on the battlefield.”_

_He smirked. “If you value your chances, you had better hope that doesn’t happen too soon.” The battlefield was the one place he wouldn’t hold back in a fight._

_Ironwood chucked. “Unlike those boys, my pride can survive a loss to a worthy opponent, regardless of his age. But I will be fighting to win.”_

_He was the one to hold out his hand this time. “Then I look forward to meeting again in the arena, cadet…?”_

_“James Ironwood.” He shook his offered hand. Ironwood’s grip was warm and firm. It felt strangely dissonant, since somewhere in his mind he knew that hand should be cold and hard as steel. But it wasn’t—not yet._

_“I am Ozpin,” he said. “But you knew that already.”_

_Ironwood nodded. “Just Ozpin?” he asked._

_He did have a surname, but he had stopped using it once… Well, once it became dangerous for his family to be too closely associated with him. “Just Ozpin,” he said._

_“Well, it’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ozpin,” Ironwood said, and turned to continue on his way._

‘There is something about that boy,’ _a man’s voice murmured in the back of his mind. It was so regal and refined, it sounded almost affected. No one spoke like that these days. But alas, the antiquated manner of speech was already beginning to wear off on him. Yet another reason the other children found him unsettling. It was a good thing his early enrollment had rather precluded him from making friends his freshman year, or they would have noticed his sudden…behavioral changes._

‘You think so?’ _he thought._

‘Yes. His instinct was not to attack, but to defend.’

_“Hm.” He considered the implications of that. “Oh, James?”_

_Ironwood stopped and turned back. “Yes?”_

_He clasped his cane in front of him in a manner he knew made him appear taller than he was. “In a few more years, I will be running this academy.” The older boy’s eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. “And I will need friends in the other kingdoms. I’ll be paying attention to_ your _accomplishments from now on.”_

_Ironwood gave a bemused smile. “Then I’ll endeavor not to disappoint.”_

And with that, suddenly it was General Ironwood standing before him again, his rigid metal hand outstretched. He wasn’t smiling. But he didn’t appear concerned or confused by Roman’s delay. He’d been waiting quietly for the moment to pass, like he’d seen it happen before.

 _‘I know you encountered him at his worst,’_ said Ozpin. _‘But that is not who he truly is.’_

 _‘A man at his worst is exactly who he truly is,’_ Roman thought. He seized Ironwood’s hand and pulled the other man close as he rose to his feet. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, James,” he murmured in the General’s ear.

Ironwood’s lip curled in distaste as he stepped back, putting distance between them again. But he was unwilling to continue their conversation in front of his good little soldier. Instead, the next person to speak was Qrow. Roman wondered how long he’d been leaning against the doorframe, his shirt and vest undone, a hand clutching his side as Jackrabbit watched him warily. “We were gonna break the news to you gently, Jimmy.” He gestured to Roman, but the movement made him wince, and he nearly gave up on his sentence halfway through. “But, y’know, best laid plans and all,” he muttered breathlessly.

“For gods’ sake, get him some bandages!” Ironwood barked at Jackrabbit. She hopped to immediately and shot off in a flash, returning moments later with a first aid kid. When she nudged Qrow’s hand aside to patch him up, Roman caught a glimpse of the bright red brand burned across his ribs, right where Roman’s was. But while Roman sported a T, for thief, Qrow had been branded a bandit, the letter B indelibly scorched into his skin. Roman wondered if he’d screamed the way Qrow had when Ironwood had done that to him, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He had a knack for blocking things out that he’d rather not dwell on. It made his life a hell of a lot easier.

Ironwood cringed at the sight. “Qrow, truly, I—“

“I said it’s fine,” Qrow growled. He pushed Jackrabbit back when she’d finished fastening the bandages, and buttoned his clothes over them with trembling fingers. Then he kicked off the doorframe to stand about as straight as usual, which wasn’t saying much. Still, he’d schooled his expression into one of perfect apathy, and with a swipe of his fingers through his hair, he looked his usual self again. “We’ll forget it ever happened. What’s a few scars between friends?”

Ironwood opened his mouth to say more, but another commotion arose from out in the lobby, and instead he hissed a sharp sigh. “The students.” He was already hurrying out into the hall before he slowed and looked back hesitantly over his shoulder.

“I’m right behind ya,” said Qrow, taking the stretch of hallway at a stroll that would have appeared leisurely if it weren’t so carefully measured. Roman followed along behind the Huntsman, highly aware of how Clover and Jackrabbit kept pace with him, effectively flanking him on either side.

Up ahead, a woman in a long, white coat with long, white hair and sharp, white teeth was shouting at the other Ace Ops. “Release my sister at once! I won’t repeat myself again!”

“Being a Schnee doesn’t set her above the law,” Fido said, baring quite a few teeth of his own as he stood, arms crossed, between the woman and the door to the holding cell. The perfect guard dog.

“I outrank you,” the woman hissed threateningly.

“My team and I answer directly to General Ironwood, so until he gives the order—“

“Release them,” Ironwood ordered as he stepped out into the lobby.

Fido stiffened. “Yes, sir.” Obediently, he turned and unlocked the door to the cell.

Ice Queen ran right into the arms of the woman who was, evidently, her big sister. And really, _that_ woman deserved the title of Ice Queen if anyone did. He’d have to demote the girl to Princess. “I was so worried about you, Weiss,” she murmured into her sister’s hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye,” Ice Princess sniffled into her coat.

“What on Remnant have you gotten yourself into?”  
  
“It’s… _really_ hard to explain.”

Theirs wasn’t the only tender family reunion. Little Red burst out of the cell and barreled into Qrow as soon as she caught sight of him. He gasped as her arms tightened around him, but he forced his pained grimace into a smile and gingerly returned her embrace. “It’s okay, kiddo,” he huffed. “I told you I'd be fine.”

Kitty Cat slunk out of the cell after her, looking every bit like a feral cat venturing warily into uncertain territory. “You’re sure?” she asked. “I thought I heard…” Her ears swiveled around, alert. “Screams.”

Fisticuffs looked between her friend and her uncle suspiciously, but Qrow simply shrugged off their concern. “I lost my temper and shouted at one of the Aces,” he said. “That must’ve been what you heard.”

“Yeah…” Kitty Cat hesitantly agreed. “That must have been it.”

Neo returned to Roman’s side, still seemingly nonplussed by her brief stint in the slammer. But there was a clear question in her eyes, and Roman answered it with a single glance toward Qrow. They had hurt the Huntsman, not him. They hadn’t had the chance. Neo nodded. It was already a severe test of her self-restraint to expect her not to exact revenge on General Ironwood for what he’d done to Roman. Anyone else who laid a finger on him would be in serious shit.

Roman figured they might as well join in on the family fun, since the unexpected opportunity presented itself. “Well, would you look at this little family reunion,” Roman chuckled. He threw an arm around Clover’s shoulders, feeling the other man tense at the contact. “Neo, meet our cousin, Clover.”

Her eyes widened as she stared up at the Ace with sudden interest. She began to circle him appraisingly, her intense observation making him increasingly uneasy. Finally, she stopped in front of him again just as he managed to shrug off Roman’s hold. And then the light shimmered around her, and from her toes up she began to change, until the girl standing before him was the very same one from the Brunswick family photograph.

Clover stuttered a gasp and stumbled back, his face torn between horror and wonder. Roman merely shook his head. “She didn’t make it,” he said.

Neo frowned and let the illusion fall away. "Wait..." Clover almost reached out to try to hold onto it, but he forced his hand back down at his side and clenched it into a fist instead. The Aces were trained not to show weakness, and he'd slipped up badly. He was lucky he was family.

“You’re all aware that because of our enemy’s penchant for infiltration, you have been operating on a need-to-know basis,” the General was addressing the Ace Ops. “As of tonight, there is more that you need to know. I will brief you all in my office at twenty-two-hundred hours. Until then, continue with your patrol. I’ll be taking the detainees with me.”

But Ironwood had hardly finished speaking when sirens started wailing like widows—not inside the police station, but out in the streets. The General cursed and barked an order at the Ace Ops to return their weapons. The Huntsmen and Huntresses hesitated just for a moment as they looked to their captain. But one subtle nod from Clover, and they sprang into action. Lumberjane threw open the weapons lockers and the others pulled out all the blades, guns, and ridiculous hybrids of the two, and tossed them back to their owners.

“What are those sirens?” Sparky asked, even as she pumped her grenade launcher.

“Perimeter breach,” said Ice Queen, sword already drawn.

“Breach?” echoed Ice Princess. She mirrored her sister’s stance instinctively. It was clear where she’d gotten her training from.

Clover thrust Roman’s cane into his hand and held out the open blast box for Roman to take back the Lamp. Evidently, he still assumed it was a weapon, too. Ironwood looked alarmed to see the Relic in Roman’s hands, but interestingly, so did Ice Queen. 

_“Sir,”_ she hissed, but he silenced her with a raised hand.

“Not here. Not now.” He turned on his heel and headed for the door. “We have to take care of our other uninvited guests first.”

They all followed him out into the night. The General’s personal airship was parked outside, bathed in red light from the street lamps—as clear a signal of danger as the sirens. The few civilians caught out this late were scurrying for shelter, leaving a clear line of sight down to the darkened end of the street. Pops of gunfire rang out in the distance, but they were quickly cut short. Seconds later, the twisted metal carcasses of two Atlesian Knights sailed through the air from one of the side streets and crashed into the side of the opposite building. Then, the darkness at the end of the street seemed to stir.

“Sabyrs. At least thirty, closing fast.”

Roman looked up to see Toaster hovering high above them, but her gaze was fixed dead ahead. Suddenly, out of the shadows burst dozens of dark, fast-moving forms, their eyes glowing like embers under the street lamps, their enormous fangs gleaming in the red light as though drenched in blood. She threw her arms out in front of her, sending the blades at her back shooting forward to spin like a dynamo in the air, generating a powerful surge of crackling, bright green electricity. When she discharged, the energy beam shot forth at the speed of lightning, clearing a column straight down the center of the oncoming horde.

But these Grimm were clever and agile. Those that weren’t disintegrated instantly scattered, breaking ranks so they no longer moved in a predictable mass. Some leapt up onto balconies and fire escapes to attack from above while others disappeared down the darkened side streets, no doubt to circle around behind. They were drawn to the Lamp. They would keep coming until they’d shredded Roman and everyone around him to pieces to get to it. 

_‘If a sabyr gets its teeth into you, you’re as good as dead,’_ Ozpin said.

“You’re a fountain of wisdom,” Roman muttered as he raised his cane and lined up his sights on a pair of them charging down the street toward him. Beside him, Ironwood unholstered his pistol and took aim at another one running along the rooftops. They exchanged a glance—a tacit truce—before they turned their backs to each other and fired, destroying both their targets with one shot. The others with ranged weapons sprayed the street with a fire barrage, mowing down the next wave of Grimm on all sides. Clover and Whiplash seized ground, each dashing down the street in opposite directions to meet the monsters. But they both leapt aside at the last second, Clover whirling his fishing rod over his head and casting, catching the hook around the lamppost on the opposite side of the street and pulling the steel cord taut while Whiplash wrapped his long, glowing arms around the lamppost across from him. The charging Grimm couldn’t stop or swerve in time, and went tumbling head over heels, right into the other Ace Ops’ attacks. Lumberjane and Jackrabbit bashed in bones, the former with a massive hammer at least twice the size of Sparky’s, the latter with mechanical fists that caged her entire arms and worked with her Semblance to deliver punishing, rapid-fire punches. At the other end of the street, Fido cut down three with one fell swoop of his bladed boomerang.

But the rest of the Grimm kept coming. With catlike grace, the creatures leapt over Clover and Whiplash’s trip-ups and were on the rest of them in seconds. It became a close-quarter fight. A sabyr raced toward Roman, zig-zagging as Ironwood’s shots cracked the pavement at its feet, but Roman stood his ground. He lowered his weapon, staring the beast right in the eyes. It lunged for him with claws and fangs bared. But all it sunk its teeth into was smoke—as Neo sunk her sword into its heart. No sooner had the sabyr crumbled to ash than another tried to take a swipe at Neo, only to shatter her image into a thousand pieces, revealing Roman with his weapon raised at point-blank range. He fired a round clean through its skull and it burst into ash as it hit the pavement at his feet. Neo popped open her umbrella as the ash rained down around them and the Huntsmen took down one Grimm after another.

Qrow’s pained gasp from nearby drew Roman’s attention, but the Huntsman hadn’t taken a hit—not yet, anyway. One swing of his sword had sent a sabyr leaping back out of striking range to circle around him more warily, seeking an opening to attack. And Qrow had just given one. He’d nearly dropped his weapon as his hand flew to his side in pain, and the sabyr pounced. Its fangs clanged down around the shaft of Roman’s cane instead of Qrow’s throat. As the smoke cleared, he stood between the Huntsman and the beast, his cane thrust out in front of him with both hands. Before the sabyr could realize why it tasted steel rather than blood, Roman wrenched his cane around ninety degrees and broke the beast’s neck.

“Thanks,” Qrow huffed.

Roman looked back over his shoulder at the Huntsman, reduced to helplessness by human hand, not beast, and he let out a sound not unlike the sabyr had. He didn’t care that Atlas had left its mark on him, but on Qrow it felt far more personal. A claim on what was his. He may not have his city anymore, or his syndicate, but he had a team, and gods knew he would never have picked ‘em, but they were all he had. Back in Vale, people knew better than to lay hands on what was his.

 _‘What do you say we teach Atlas that lesson, professor?’_ Roman thought as he raised his cane to fix Jackrabbit in his sights through the chaos. She was fending off three sabyrs at once. As fast as she was, she’d never make it out of there in time.

_‘You know I won’t let you pull that trigger, Roman.’_

_‘But you want to. Just a little.’_ He ran his finger over the trigger, feather-light. _‘I can tell.’_

But at that moment, in a blur of speed, Jackrabbit spun and windmill kicked one of the sabyr’s heads back with a brutal snap, and the one she’d turned her back to for a mere moment lunged. Roman nudged his sights just an inch to the right and fired, obliterating the beast—and showering Jackrabbit with ash, which wasn’t as satisfying as shooting her would’ve been, but wasn’t _un_ satisfying either. When the ash fell, he noticed Ironwood standing there watching him from across the street, his gun raised in a stance that mirrored Roman's. They both lowered their weapons as the fray died down, the few remaining sabyrs swiftly slaughtered by the Huntsmen and baby Huntsmen.

“Aces—“ the General began, but one surviving sabyr lunged from the shadows of the alley behind him, and might’ve torn out his throat with its teeth had Maria not moved faster than a woman her age had any right to. She slid under the creature, spinning her cane to extend a hidden curved blade, and then sank it up into the beast's ribcage to redirect its momentum and throw it down on its back at her feet. The sabyr snapped and snarled at her, but with a single twist of her scythe, its body finally crumbled away to ash.

She gave the dumbstruck General a mock salute, and tapped the shaft of her scythe—now a simple cane again—on the pavement. “I’ve still got it,” she announced proudly.

“She’s still got it,” Qrow echoed in an awed whisper. But he soon shook the stars out of his eyes. His feelings about the old lady had grown more complicated of late. He still wasn’t keen on the idea of her teaching Little Red how to use that killer stare of hers. But he’d forfeited his right to put his foot down with that kid when he’d given her up to some blonde, backwoods beach bum.

The General gave Maria a bemused nod of thanks. “As I was saying, Aces, make sure all the civilians made it to shelter safely and see if anyone needs medical attention. We’re going back up to Atlas to sort all this out. I’ll see you for your briefing later.”

“Yes, sir,” said Clover, his team falling into line behind him. But his eyes never left his cousin as Roman hopped up into the General’s airship after the others.

Roman smiled and tipped his hat in farewell before moving to take his seat as the doors closed and the ship took off for the floating city. People called it the City of Dreams, but Atlas was the city of his nightmares. Surveillance from top to bottom, cops around every corner and a legal code as dense as as a brick—and thrown at the unwary with the same blunt force. It was a lovely place to live for those who lived by the rules. For everyone else, it was an icy panopticon. Or so Roman had heard. He’d never visited for the aforementioned reasons, and he’d hoped he’d never have to. But now that he had the ever-so-loyal General to bend the rules for him, he was starting to think it might not be so bad here after all.

Beneath them, the streets of Mantle were still bathed in the bloodred glow of the emergency lights. “Is the city under attack?” Qrow asked. _Are we too late?_ was the underlying question.

“No,” Ironwood sighed. “But the breaches are becoming more frequent.”

“ _Breaches, plural?_ Since when are there _breaches?”_ Qrow demanded. But the answer became evident as they gained altitude. Mantle’s defenses weren’t just falling into disrepair—they had _fallen_ , at least in one sector. There was a gaping hole in the perimeter wall where it had rusted away to rubble out on the harsh Atlesian tundra.

“With the embargo, our resources are stretched thin,” the General explained. “I’m…doing what I can.”

“I really hope you’ve got a better explanation than that,” Qrow growled. “People could get killed.”

“I hope _you_ have an _extremely_ good explanation for dragging _children_ —my _sister—_ into…whatever-this-is,” Ice Queen hissed over her shoulder. She’d taken the helm of the ship while Ironwood sat rigidly in the copilot’s seat. Toaster sat across from Roman on the opposite bench, watching him unblinkingly. “Do you have any idea how much danger you were in?”

“He does,” Ironwood said, before Qrow could say something more pointed.

Ice Queen turned to her commander. “So, what? Qrow’s in bed with the mafia now?”

Roman snorted. “You could say that.”

Qrow shot him an absolutely murderous look, and Roman drank it in like wine. With all that the world had thrown at him, even just in these past few months, Qrow still had such fire in his blood. It was his most attractive quality, in Roman’s eyes. And it was oh so fun to stoke the flames. “I will fucking stab you,” Qrow growled at him under his breath.

Roman reached out and patted the Huntsman on the cheek affectionately. “Not if I stab you first, dear,” he cooed.

Qrow looked like he wished the bottom of the airship would drop out beneath him. Most of the others were studiously ignoring their interaction. But the creepy little robot was still staring at Roman. What with him being Atlas’ Most Wanted and her no doubt plugged into all the military’s threat monitoring systems, she probably had about a dozen alarm bells going off in her head. But that didn’t make her studying his every move any less unnerving. So he showed her his middle finger for her to study all she wanted.

He didn’t expect her to mimic the gesture. “No, don’t do that!” Little Red squeaked, grabbing her friend’s hand and pushing it back down into her lap.

The robot cocked her head curiously. “Why not? Is it not a form of greeting, like a fist-bump?”

“It absolutely is,” Roman interjected before Red could answer. He kept a completely straight face as he continued, “You should use it with all your Atlesian friends. They’ll be very impressed with your grasp of human behavior.”

“No it isn’t, Penny, he’s lying,” Red hissed.

“Why would I lie about something like that?” Roman asked innocently.

Toaster looked to her friend for an answer. “Because it’s rude and he’s mean and he just wants to mess with you,” said Little Red.

“I see,” said the robo-girl ponderously. She turned back to Roman. “Then…” She lifted her hand again and carefully raised her middle finger. “Is this the appropriate response?”

Roman laughed, tickled by the girl's moxie. “Touché, Toaster.”

Red buried her face in her hands in resignation, but her metal friend simply frowned. “My name is Penny.”

Blondie heaved a dramatic sigh. “That’s a losing battle with him.”

“You know,” said Moody, “refusing to refer to people or animals by their real names is often a tactic to avoid becoming emotionally attached.”

“Fascinating,” Roman drawled, casually curling his fingers into a fist. “And how emotionally attached would you say you are to your teeth?”

Moody, wisely, shut his mouth. And soon, Ice Queen was bringing the airship down onto a private landing pad atop the Atlas Academy tower. When he stepped out, Roman felt like he was standing at the top of the world. The entire city glimmered and gleamed below, not the slightest crack in its flawless façade to hint that anything was amiss. But far beneath and out of sight, Mantle still lurked in Atlas’ shadow like so much dirt swept under the rug. Something was very wrong down there, and it was only a matter of time before their problems bubbled up to the surface and became the problems of these upstanding Atlesian citizens. They might’ve thought they were above it all, but the two cities were quite literally chained together, their fates inescapably intertwined. And suddenly, Roman didn’t want to think about Atlas and Mantle anymore.

It was a short elevator ride down to a stately room of white marble, steel and glass. A solid, black desk and chair were the only fixtures, resting atop a dais and backed by sweeping floor-to-ceiling windows with a commanding view of the city. The vaulted ceiling and cold, hard materials gave the place a cavernous feeling, despite its lofty place among the stars. Even though it was the first time Roman had set foot in the room, it felt like the hundredth.

Ironwood crossed to stand behind his desk, and Ice Queen and Toaster took up places on either side of him. “My office is secure. We can speak freely here.”  
  
Qrow leaned languidly against the wall and crossed his arms, offering no outward show of respect for the office of Atlas’ highest authority. It was the sort of irreverent attitude everyone expected from him. But Roman and Ironwood knew better. Qrow was trying not to strain his injury. “What about them?” Qrow jerked his chin to indicate the General’s retinue.

“They know everything,” said Ironwood, glancing at Roman uneasily. “With all communications with the other headmasters cut off, I needed people of my own I could rely on. Winter is my most trusted lieutenant and has demonstrated unwavering devotion to duty since the day I recruited her. And Penny is our kingdom’s most advanced fighter whose loyalty is without question. She was built here—we are her family and Atlas is her home. She will do everything in her power to protect her people.”

Roman wouldn’t have thought the pair of them could stand any straighter, but they did, puffed up with pride in their great kingdom and their place as cogs in the mighty machine. It was pathetic. Neither had the slightest desire to carve out a piece of the world for themselves. No wonder they fell right in line.

“I deeply regret how all of you were treated by the Ace Ops,” Ironwood continued. “They know only what I judged was necessary—that the attacks on the kingdoms are being coordinated by a single terrorist group, that hostile agents are operating within our midst, and that the academies share a secret mission to counter their plots. Given the circumstances, my team came to the conclusion that you were here to launch an attack on Atlas. I came as soon as Penny informed me of your capture.”

“I was certain it was all a big misunderstanding,” she piped up with a bright, porcelain-white smile.

Qrow scoffed. “Well, we weren’t expecting a warm, Atlesian welcome.”

“Honestly, Qrow, what _were_ you expecting showing up here with _him?”_ Ice Queen sneered at Roman, showing her teeth like an attack dog testing its chain.

“Qrow has been through enough today, Schnee,” Ironwood snapped. “Leave off him for _once_.” Ice Queen obediently stood down, but made no attempt to conceal her displeasure doing so. “That said, your timing was…unfortunate. Thanks to your intelligence, Qrow, the Ace Ops were able to apprehend Dr. Arthur Watts just a few days ago.”

“No kidding, you got the bastard?” said Qrow.

“We have him,” Ironwood assured them. “He hasn't exactly been forthcoming thus far, but he almost certainly wasn’t working alone. The appearance in Atlas of one of his known co-conspirators—“ the General glared gloomily in Roman’s direction ”—naturally raised…red flags.”

“But since I’m obviously not the one he’s waiting on, you have to wonder…” Roman spread his arms to encompass their surroundings. “What if he’s right where he wants to be?”

The General clasped his hands firmly behind his back—probably to keep from clenching them into fists. “Unlike you, Watts was exceedingly difficult to capture. He was using his old backdoors into Mantle’s security and surveillance grid to exploit its blindspots. But Penny noticed a pattern to the blackouts and equipment failures, which are otherwise to be expected in a city with infrastructure as old as Mantle's. That’s how the Ace Ops were finally able to track him down. And he did not come quietly.”

Roman wasn’t entirely convinced, but he knew very little about the shadowy Dr. Watts and the role Salem intended him to play in her plans. “Well, I trust you’ll arrange a visit,” he said. “Maybe I can persuade him to be more… _forthcoming_.”

Ironwood studied Roman intently, turning each of his words and actions over like stones in his mind lest he find a viper coiled beneath. “I’ll take you to him tomorrow,” he assented. “Tonight, why don’t you tell us…why you’ve come?”

“Mmm,” Roman hummed noncommittally. “I think _you_ owe _us_ a bit of exhibition first, General Pornstar. I know how much you _love_ a captive audience—”

Ironwood slammed his metal fist down on his desk so hard he cracked the screen in a shower of sparks. “Why do you allow him to continue to speak?” he snarled.

No one else dared cast a word into the pool of ensuing silence, but Roman hadn't been intimidated by the big, bad General when he'd been at the other man's mercy, and he certainly wasn't now that the tables were turned. “Well, I could be wrong,” he drawled, “but I just have a _feeling_ it’s because he’s pretty _pissed_ at you right now, and he doesn’t want to say something he’ll regret.” Ironwood was taken aback by that, so Roman painted the picture for him as he approached the General at his desk. “When you put it all together, the SNAFU with your forces in Vale was as much your fault as mine. You’ve got Watts and you’ve got nothing _out_ of him. And from what we’ve seen in our first hour on Atlesian soil, things have only gotten worse on your watch. After Lionheart’s betrayal, your shortcomings could start to look a little less like incompetence, and a little more like sabotage.”

Ironwood’s eyes widened. “He knows I would never…” He clenched his jaw. “I know the situation looks dire,” he ground out. “But I have a plan. If I can discuss it with him…”

“Sir, who are you two talking about?” Ice Queen interjected.

The General put Roman in mind of a teakettle letting off steam as he released his breath in a hiss. “Ozpin.” He gestured to Roman. “By virtue of some divine disaster.”

At least she was sharp. It didn’t take her long to put the pieces together. “But that...that can’t be...”

“It does make much more sense, though,” said Toaster, thoughtfully.

Roman leaned up against the General’s desk and said with a smirk, “It also kinda makes me your boss, doesn’t it?”

As expected, Ironwood didn’t back down. He leaned in closer across the desk, practically nose-to-nose with Roman, and growled, “You are an enemy of the kingdom, and were it not for him, you would be treated accordingly. I do not answer to _you_.”

Maria cleared her throat pointedly. “Do you two need the room? Because if you’re going to whip your dicks out to establish dominance, I should probably take the kids outside.”

Ironwood looked properly scandalized at the prospect, gaping speechlessly at the old woman. Roman had some words for her, on the other hand, but he never got to voice them. “That won’t be necessary,” Ozpin sighed, standing up straight. And just like that, all eyes were on him. “I apologize for Roman’s conduct—“ he pinched the bridge of his nose “—for the umpteenth time. I was…composing my thoughts. However, they run more of less along the lines that he already articulated. So tell us, James, what is your plan here?” His voice dipped dangerously low. “And why does it evidently take precedence over the safety of your own citizens?”

Ironwood picked his jaw up off the floor and straightened out his uniform in an attempt to recover his dignity. “Please, allow me to show you.” He tapped a button on the still-functioning side of his desk, and then the crest of the Kingdom of Atlas in the center of his office floor began to rise. Red and Blondie hurriedly stepped off of it before what looked like a full wargaming table had taken over the middle of the room where they’d been standing. Everyone gathered around it as holographic schematics flickered to life above its surface.

“That’s Amity Colosseum,” said Blondie. Sure enough, a perfect scale render of the structure was spinning slowly in the air above them.

“Indeed,” said Ironwood. He picked up a remote off his desk and moved to join them at the table. “When Beacon fell and everyone on Remnant lost contact with one another, I knew our current system was outdated. Amity was built to bring the kingdoms together, and it will serve that purpose again.” He pressed a button on the remote, and an antenna appeared atop the colosseum.

“Building a new tower on top of Amity Colosseum will reestablish global communications!” Toaster chimed in excitedly.

With a wary glance Ozpin's way, Ice Queen added, “By launching the tower high into the atmosphere with enough gravitydust, our scientists believe we can create a sort of…satellite out of reach of the Grimm and capable of maintaining global communications even if we were to lose another tower.”

“That’s…amazing,” said Little Red.

“It might actually work,” said Qrow.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as Ozpin imagined the potential of such a thing. “It is certainly a worthy undertaking, James,” he said gently. “But your people are your first priority. Especially now, when Atlas may well become the next battlefront. Fear and instability are an open invitation to our enemies. You must fortify Mantle before taking on an experimental project of this scale, or you could lose both cities before you complete it.”

“But what if…?” Ironwood began, but he trailed off and glanced away. “I’m sorry. I can’t look at you and not see him.”

_‘Funny. I can’t look at him and not see a massive tool.’_

Ozpin sighed. “I thought that might be the case. Neo, would you be so kind?” he asked, holding out his hand to her.

She glared at his hand, and then at him. _I won’t do this again_. When he nodded his understanding, she took his hand, and her delicate illusion glass glimmered across his body. Qrow’s breath caught. Roman didn’t need to see himself to know who he looked like, and hate it with every fiber of his being. 

“Wow, it’s almost like being back at Beacon!” Sparky exclaimed. “Hey Ozpin, tell Jaune the movie _Hippopotasaur_ wasn’t about a real Grimm and he’ll have to re-write his essay!”

Blondie pulled the folds of his hoodie up around his face to hide his burning blush. “I’d rather not relive that moment of my life.”

“It was a good essay, in Mr. Arc’s defense.” Ozpin chuckled. “I found the part about the beast’s taste for whole human heads particularly gripping.”

Blondie only shrank down further inside his hood. The other kids seemed to be enjoying the little blast from the past. Their relationship with their headmaster had been over the rocks recently, but he was also a reminder of happier times before everything they knew had fallen apart. Qrow wouldn’t stop staring.

“It’s so good to see you again, Ozpin,” Ironwood said. The man actually sounded a little choked up. Roman might’ve laughed if he weren’t simmering with suppressed rage.

“This is only temporary,” said Ozpin, at once assuring Roman and warning Ironwood. “If my students whom he terrorized can get used to him, then you can, too.”

 _‘I was minding my own business,’_ Roman grumbled. _‘_ They _terrorized_ me.’

“Of course,” the General agreed, with the decency to look somewhat ashamed of himself.

“You were saying, about Amity?” Ozpin prompted.

Ironwood gestured to the schematics. “What if it could end the war?”

The smile fell from Ozpin’s face. “And how could it do that?”

“We could tell the world about Salem.”

“You’re right,” said Ozpin. “That would end the war. Swiftly.”

“There would be panic, and panic would bring the Grimm,” Ironwood conceded. “But if we tell the people of Atlas first, my soldiers could keep the panic from boiling over into chaos. And once the people here have come to terms with the truth, the Atlesian military would be prepared to come to the aid of the other kingdoms when they learn the truth for themselves.”

Ozpin stared silently through the glowing hologram at the General for a long moment. “There would not just be panic,” he said, finally. “There was a time, long ago, when humanity knew about Salem. And they fell to their knees and worshipped her. We live in a world without gods. Anyone still searching would need look no further than her.”

 _‘You're conveniently leaving yourself out of that story,’_ Roman remarked.

_‘My role is not relevant to my point.’_

Ironwood’s brow furrowed in frustration. “You just said that was a long time ago. People change.”

“Not that much,” Ozpin said, sadly. "Why do you follow me? Is it not out of a desire to place your faith in a higher power?"

“What of _your_ faith, Ozpin?” Ironwood challenged. “You told me you had faith in humanity.”

“Even in the best case scenario, where humanity does not succumb to chaos and fanaticism, what then?” Ozpin countered. “All the world’s armies and all the world’s weapons cannot destroy her. She will always keep coming back, as I do. I could have had the forces of all four kingdoms at my command after the Great War. I could have brought the greatest army this world had ever seen down on her, but I didn’t. Because they all would have died for nothing.”

Roman hadn't missed the way Ozpin had dodged the question, and he doubted Ironwood had, either. But the General pressed on. “Then why does she always strike from the shadows, recruiting others to do her dirty work, concocting these elaborate plots to turn us against each other? What is she afraid of, if not the possibility of humanity uniting against her if they ever learned of her existence?”

Ozpin gave the plain and simple answer. “She fears nothing. Not an army, not me, not even the gods. It is not fear that motivates her. She knows I’ve been tasked to spend my lives trying to bring humanity together. I think she wants to prove to me, or to the gods, or perhaps only to herself, that humanity will sooner tear itself apart.”

“So there really is no way to defeat her decisively, once and for all?” Ironwood asked the question like he already knew the answer, and had for a long time. But he finally had to voice it aloud.

“Not by conventional means,” said Ozpin. “That doesn’t mean it’s impossible.” He glanced briefly at Little Red before returning his gaze to the General. “But as of yet, we do not have the ability to do so.”

“I see,” Ironwood said flatly.

“So you’ll focus on repairing the wall?” Ozpin pressed.

“Yes,” Ironwood agreed. “I—“ He shut his eyes and massaged his brow above the metal strip of his neurotransmitter that controlled his cybernetics. “In order to ramp up construction, I’ll first need to deal with the group of thieves down in Mantle stealing supply shipments. They’ve managed to elude capture thus far.”

“Hm,” said Ozpin. “Perhaps you need a thief to catch a thief.”

Ironwood reopened his eyes only to favor Ozpin with a skeptical look. “Surely you’re not talking about Torchwick.”

“Think of him as a turncoat, if you prefer," Ozpin proposed. "He was Salem's asset and now he is mine. He's proven surprisingly helpful in certain situations, when properly incentivized. Where do you think Qrow got the information that he passed along to you?”

Ice Queen sniffed. “And what does _he_ get out of being _helpful_?”

“As much freedom as I can give him, for as long as I can give it,” Ozpin answered.

She raised a perfect brow sharp enough to cut. “That’s it?”

“It must be frightening, not being in control of your own body,” said Toaster, flexing her fingers. “Like what he did to our Knights.”

Ironwood shut off the holographic display and laid his hands on the table with a heavy sigh. “I am in no position to refuse assistance where I can get it. But a wall won’t protect the city from another attack like the one on Beacon.”

“And what about the rest of Mantle?” Fisticuffs added. “They’re obviously struggling, and with all your soldiers and propaganda down there, it looks like the whole city’s under an occupying force. How is that _helping_ , making your own people afraid of you? Isn’t that exactly what Salem wants?”

Ironwood curled his hands into fists. “I have to keep order. With the chaos in the other kingdoms, the Grimm, the embargo and the election, tensions here are higher than they’ve been in a long time, but they are nothing new. No other kingdom has a fractured capital. I deployed my soldiers in Mantle _and_ Atlas to keep our citizens safe from the Grimm and from people like Watts. But the resentment between our twin cities runs deep and, potentially, dangerous. I have no doubt Salem will seek to exploit it. It is a powder keg that could explode into civil war, and I have to stop whoever would light the match. If my people label me a tyrant, that’s a price I’m willing to pay to protect them.”

“You sure sound the part,” Kitty Cat said.

Ironwood regarded her with a cool, analytical eye. “I received a report from Argus that the Belladonnas helped put down the White Fang uprising at Haven. It must have been hard, but it was the right thing to do. Sometimes the threats that leaders must face come from within.”

Kitty Cat’s ears flattened defensively, but she had no rebuttal. Instead, it was Ozpin who offered one. “That may be true, but remember, James, that absolute order is as dangerous as absolute chaos. We need a bit of both, or we lose our humanity.”

“More wisdom gained from experience?” said Ironwood.

He may have meant it as a sleight, but Ozpin accepted the simple spoken truth. “If the only good to come of my mistakes is that no one else need repeat them, perhaps someday it will all be worth the cost.”

Ironwood straightened and unballed his fists, folding his hands behind his back instead. “It’s getting late. And I take it we have a more urgent matter to discuss.” He gestured to the Lamp hanging at Ozpin’s hip.

Ozpin unhooked the Lamp and placed it atop the table in front of them, where it hung ethereally on the air. “The Relic of Knowledge was no longer safe at Haven,” he said. “I was hoping to seal it in the vault here until the situation in Mistral can be remedied.”

“That won’t be possible, with the Winter Maiden’s current condition,” said Ice Queen.

“Her condition?” Blondie asked. “Was she attacked, like the Fall Maiden?”

“No. She’s just…very old,” said Ice Queen. “She’s become bedridden, and most days, she doesn’t even remember she _is_ the Winter Maiden anymore. She won’t be able to open the vault.”

Ozpin sighed in dismay. “I was afraid of that.”

“You brought it all this way,” Toaster mused. “Maybe it’s safest with you for now.”

Ozpin looked at her sadly. “I couldn’t keep you safe, Penny. Nor my own students, Amber, my academy… I fear it isn’t safe with me at all.”

“With respect, professor, I meant _all_ of you.” She spread her arms to encompass everyone at the table. “That is, if you’re planning to stay,” she said hopefully.

“I can arrange for you students to resume your training here at Atlas Academy so that you can assist on missions,” Ironwood offered. “We could certainly use more Huntresses and Huntsmen like you who have faced the enemy before and know what we’re truly up against.”

“Well,” Red ventured tentatively, “we did come here to help.”

“It figures that after all that, I’d still end up back at Atlas Academy,” Ice Princess pouted.

“You’ve already gone above and beyond the call of duty. If any of you wish to return home to your families, we would understand,” Ironwood said. “You can all sleep on it and give me your answers in the morning.”

“What are you going to tell the Ace Ops?” Moody asked.

Ironwood tried hopelessly to rub some of the tension from his brow with his thumb and forefinger. “I’ll tell them that Ozpin was grooming you for covert operations, and that Qrow took charge of your training after his death. Torchwick was a deep cover agent tasked with infiltrating Salem’s faction. I had to, _very publicly_ ,” he hissed, “declare him Public Enemy Number One in Atlas so Salem wouldn’t realize her network had been compromised. Which reminds me, Ozpin, you shouldn’t go out in public without her.” He gestured to Neo. “I made certain everyone in Atlas knows his face.”

Neo rolled her eyes, but gave a resigned shrug. “We’ve hardly left each other's side these past few months,” Ozpin translated.

Fisticuffs crossed her arms and fixed the General with a hard stare. “So you’re just going to keep lying to your team?”

“They’re soldiers,” said Ironwood. “They expect to be told what they need to know, when they need to know it. No less, and no more. As of now, the only people we can trust with the truth are in this room. Lives are more important than lies. My team understands that.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard that before, too,” Sparky grumbled. “We get it.”

“Good,” he said. “You all must be tired. You've had quite a day. Winter and Penny will show you to the student dorms. The adults can use the rooms for visiting professors, since I sent them all home. Ozpin and Qrow know where they are.”

“I’m going to hitch a ride back down to Mantle,” said Maria. She tapped at her goggles again in a vain attempt to refocus them. “I _really_ need to get my eyes checked. I’m seeing two of everyone.”

“Your prosthetics are Dr. Polendina’s work,” Toaster observed. “So am I! He’s my father. I’ll escort you to him. I need to get my eyes checked, too, in a way. I think there may be a bug in my facial recognition software after my reconstruction. I should have recognized my friends _much_ sooner.”

With a permissive gesture from the General, Toaster bid farewell to her friends again, promising to be back by morning to show them all around Atlas Academy, which she assured them they were going to _absolutely love_. Then she whisked Maria away by the hand, already chattering a mile a minute about how brilliant this Dr. Polendina was, and all the advancements he’d made in cybernetics over the past few years.

Ice Queen gave Ironwood a curt nod and ushered for the kids to follow her out of the headmaster’s office. Once the doors closed behind the last of them, Ironwood spoke again. “I’m sure Winter will want to be the one to tell her sister this herself, so I didn’t mention it earlier. But the other reason I brought her into my confidence was to offer her the choice of becoming the Winter Maiden’s successor. And she accepted.”

Ozpin frowned. “Successor? But the power transfers—”

“To the last person in the Maiden’s thoughts when she passes, yes. That's why I have her in an isolated ward, with Winter visiting her regularly and administering all of her care under the guidance of her doctors. Winter is the only person she sees, and with her deteriorating memory, it is more than likely that Winter _will_ be the one in her thoughts at the end.”

“I suppose it’s worth the attempt,” said Ozpin doubtfully. “Fria was a remarkable woman. I would have liked to have seen her one last time.”

“I wish I could have met her at her prime, as you did,” Ironwood said. “I’ve tried to keep her comfortable. She seems...content.”

Ozpin glanced regretfully back at the doors the kids had disappeared through moments ago. “Weiss will be upset.”

“It was Winter’s choice. She’s ready.”

“They are never ready,” said Ozpin.

“I suppose you have some idea of what they go through.” Ironwood looked down at the Lamp, turning weightlessly above the table between them. “When we first met, you were...frequently distracted. Often of two minds on a matter. Volatile, in a word. I can only imagine what it must be like this time, with _him_. If you aren’t sure the Relic is safe with you, I could safeguard it myself.”

Ozpin reached out and plucked the Lamp out of the air. “That is not what I was referring to.” He hitched it back to his belt and returned Ironwood’s gaze. “You and Glynda are my oldest friends. You're the only ones who knew me before I was truly...me. But I am not that boy anymore. I can handle myself. And I can handle Torchwick. We’re beginning to understand each other.”

“That’s what worries me.” Ironwood sighed. “The Ace Ops will be here soon. You should go.”

Ozpin nodded and turned to do just that. “I’ll see you tomorrow, James.”

“We may not always agree,” Ironwood said softly behind him. “But I’m glad you came. I felt…lost, without you.”

“I know the feeling,” Ozpin murmured before he left the General alone in his imposing office.

Neo stuck close to his side, and Qrow slunk along in his wake like a second shadow. But as soon as they made it out into the antechamber and Neo was about to dispel her illusion on Ozpin, Qrow’s hand shot out to grab her wrist. “Don’t,” he said, half warning, half pleading. “Not yet.” They were the first words he’d spoken since she’d cast the illusion.

Neo shot him a look that even he could understand unambiguously. _Take your hand off me or I’ll make you regret you didn’t._

Qrow made the wise decision and let go of her. “I’ll be nicer to your brother,” he blurted. “For a day.” When she just kept staring, he quickly upped the ante. “A week.” Her eyes narrowed. “Listen, any longer and I’ll snap and kill him myself.”

Neo huffed and turned on her heel, marching toward the elevator. But she left the illusion in place. She jabbed the call button with the tip of her umbrella and tapped her foot while she waited. Qrow pulled himself together in time to share a fragile smile with Ozpin before they hurried to join her in the elevator before she decided to let the doors close in their faces. Ozpin pushed the button for the fifth floor, and they descended together in silence.

_‘It sure is some spell you’ve got over him, Oz.’_

_‘Excuse me?’_

_‘Figure of speech.’_

The elevator let them out into a vaulted hallway lined with white marble pillars and a row of dark, identical doors on either side. It was beautiful, cold and unwelcoming, like everything else in Atlas. “James said we could use any of these rooms,” Oz said, trying the glowing touchpad beside one of the doors and finding it unlocked. The steel panels slid back into the frame, permitting access to the darkened domicile.

Before Qrow could follow him inside, Neo caught his wrist with the handle of her umbrella. She held out her hand and spread her fingers. _Five minutes._ Then she spun around and disappeared into the room across the hall. Qrow turned back to Oz with a desperate look in his eyes. He shoved him the rest of the way into the room, and no sooner had the door slid shut behind them, than Qrow was pulling Oz against him with startling strength. They stumbled back against the wall, their lips colliding as Qrow clung to him like a drowning man.

Ozpin struggled to catch up at first, but he stopped altogether and pulled back when he tasted blood. The only light in the room was filtering in through the high, arching windows from the city below, but when he cupped Qrow’s face in both hands and tilted it toward the soft neon glow, he saw the Huntsman’s lips shine red. “Qrow, this illusion is like fine glass. I'll cut you if you’re not careful,” he admonished.

“I don’t care,” Qrow hissed through bloody teeth. His eyes were beginning to glisten with tears, but he hardly seemed to notice. His full attention was fixated on Ozpin, as though if he didn’t memorize every minute detail of the man’s form by sight and touch in these moments, the memory of them might fade forever.

“Qrow…” Ozpin began, but his voice failed him. Instead, he carefully encircled his lover in his arms and held him as close as he could without causing him further harm. Qrow collapsed against him with a breathless sob. Only then did Ozpin catch sight of the mirror on the wall behind Qrow, and his reflection in its silvery surface. It was the first time he had seen his own reflection look back at him since the day he’d died. For a second, it felt as though time had taken mercy on him just this once, and turned backward, returning all that he’d lost that night. Roman, on the other hand, saw his worst nightmare in that mirror—all that he had left to lose.

But no one, not even Ozpin, could turn back time. Soon, the contours of his former self began to shimmer and fade. Qrow whimpered and clutched him tighter, but he couldn’t hold onto the illusion any more than Ozpin could hold onto the past. All that was left to hold onto was each other. So Ozpin held Qrow close with one hand while reaching up to slip Roman’s kerchief from around his neck with the other. “Close your eyes,” he whispered.

Qrow squeezed his eyes shut, the tears finally rolling down his cheeks. Ozpin brushed them away and then tied the black fabric over his eyes. He pressed a tender kiss to each one over the makeshift blindfold. “I’m still here,” he murmured.

Qrow swayed toward him blindly, and Ozpin met him halfway in a slow, searching kiss. His fingers fumbled with the buttons of Roman’s coat as Oz pulled off his gloves, and then Oz helped him shove the coat down over his shoulders. It hit the floor with a heavy, metallic _clank_ , and they both paused. “I almost forgot.” Oz bent down to fish around in the coat’s pockets until he found them. “Roman really did take these,” he said, jangling the handcuffs as he stood so Qrow could hear.

Qrow bit his much-abused lip. “Well, if we’ve already got ‘em…”

“Are you sure?” Ozpin asked, unbuttoning Qrow’s vest and slipping his fingers under Qrow’s shirt to run them gingerly over the bandages there. “After what you’ve just been through—“

“I’ve been through worse,” Qrow growled, pulling at Roman’s belt. “All I want to think about now is you.”

Ozpin released a shuddering breath. “Tell me if it hurts more than you want it to.” With that, he made short work of stripping Qrow of his shirt and vest, and then took Qrow’s hands in his and led him over to the bed. He pushed Qrow gently down onto it, and the Huntsman stretched himself out across the sheets like an all-you-can-eat buffet. Roman’s mouth started to water. He wanted to be the one to chain Qrow down and take what was on offer, but he was as much at Ozpin’s mercy as Qrow.

Oz swallowed and crawled on top of Qrow, being careful not to put any weight on his injured side. He reached up and threaded the cuffs through the headboard’s metal slats, then latched the strong steel bracelets around both of Qrow’s wrists. Qrow strained against them instinctively, but they were the real deal, not toys. The Huntsman was well and truly trapped. He’d more than likely have bruises around his wrists in the morning, but nothing his Aura wouldn’t be able to heal. Not tonight, though. Jackrabbit would have broken his Aura before branding him to make sure it would leave a lasting mark. It was standard Atlas procedure for criminals with active Auras. Roman hadn’t had an active Aura when he’d been taken into custody back in Vale, but Ironwood hadn't known that. The General had been quite surprised when one punch to the gut with his metal fist had had Roman spitting up blood. That wasn’t what Roman was thinking about now, though. Now, all he could think about was how much he wanted to leave lasting marks of his own on Qrow’s skin.

 _‘Come on, the cuffs were my idea,’_ he complained.

 _‘I’m not letting you touch him tonight,’_ Ozpin thought as he laced his fingers through Qrow’s and squeezed reassuringly, before trailing his hands down the Huntsman’s sides and pressing open-mouthed kisses to his throat, his clavicle, his sternum, his stomach, his navel. _‘He’s injured and you’ll be too rough with him.’_

_‘I can play nice.’_

Ozpin actually laughed, the arogant bastard. _‘I’d sooner believe those words from the mouth of a beowolf.’_

Qrow’s stomach clenched under the fanning of Ozpin’s breath. “Somethin’ funny?” he groaned.

Ozpin sat back on his knees to shuck Roman’s vest and shirt. “Perhaps the irony that you let me give you wings, and then put you in chains,” he mused. The man by no means checked his habit of waxing poetic at the door to the bedroom.

Qrow still looked up toward the sound of his voice, even though he couldn’t see him. “I…” Qrow writhed, fighting the instinct to grind his hips up into Oz’s. He wanted Ozpin to be the one in control. Which made one of them. “I trust you,” he breathed.

That was all it took. Ozpin fell like he'd been cut down, catching himself bare inches above his lover with one hand beside Qrow’s head and the other dipping down to fumble with Qrow’s belt while he lowered himself the rest of the way to capture Qrow’s lips once more. It wasn’t often that words failed him, but he knew he had no hope of articulating just how much Qrow’s trust meant to him, after he thought he’d lost it forever.

Qrow keened into the kiss, pulling at his restraints so he could rise to meet it, but Ozpin gently yet firmly pushed him back down. “Just relax,” he whispered once he’d kissed Qrow quiet and breathless. “I’ll take care of everything tonight.”

Roman, meanwhile, was left with the strangest feeling that Ozpin’s words were meant for him as much as Qrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maria: If you're going to whip your dicks out to establish dominance, I should probably take the kids outside.
> 
> Roman: I will bitchslap an old lady.
> 
> Maria: I'll bitchslap you right back, punk.
> 
> Qrow: *fanboying intensifies*
> 
> ~
> 
> Hi my name is Roman Om'en Ozma Brunswick Torchwick and I have short fiery red hair (that's how I got my name) with asymmetrical bangs that sweep off to the right side of my face and two different colored eyes like cursed jewels and a lot of people tell me I look like Alex DeLarge (AN: if u don't know who he is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Cinder Fall but I wish I was because she's a major fucking hottie. I'm an immortal but I can also die. It's complicated. I'm also a wizard, and I've come from a magic school called Beacon Academy in Vale where I was headmaster (I'm twenty-seven/forty-five/three-thousand). I'm a steampunk (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly white. I love Lapis Tailor's and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a white tailcoat with a red lining and black pinstriped slacks, a bowler hat and black leather brogues. I was wearing black mascara, pale foundation, black eyeliner and smoky eye shadow. I was walking outside preppy Atlas Academy (eew). It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A prep robot stared at me. I put up my middle finger at her.
> 
> [A/N: Since a lot of you liked my little Oz/Qrow behind-the-scenes backstory, here's another tidbit I got a comment on recently that I'm not sure I'm going to explicitly explain in the story: Why Neo doesn't use sign language. We never see her use it in the show, but that's not really why I don't see her using it in my fic. My version of her was raised on the streets with no one but Roman to teach her things, and he certainly didn't know how to sign. Only once she was about 7 did she and Roman start gaining access to more resources, and it would have been difficult for her to learn a second language by then, but certainly doable. But I don't think she ever had any interest in learning it. The only person she cared to be understood by was Roman, and he always understood her perfectly. I think she came to see language as more of a barrier to truly being understood, watching how easily Roman lied and twisted words. She figured if they didn't need words to communicate, they would always be fundamentally honest with each other. Eventually of course, she ascends to a position of command within the mafia, so she uses texting and basic hand signals to communicate with her subordinates, like she sometimes uses those things as well as her notepad with Roman (the notepad is my version of her picket sign in RWBY Chibi). But the main form of communication between her and her brother isn't any language, but is instead based on just how well they know each other. And for them, it works. They don't care about anyone else.]


End file.
